


The Wolf and His Pup

by Artemiseire



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Brynowen Lavellan, Childbirth, Choose Your Own Ending, Discussion of Abortion, Elven, F/M, Feels, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, Mild Language, POV Multiple, Post-Series, Pregnancy, Spoilers, Unhappy Ending, Vignette, blink and you'll miss them cameos, more tags added as we go, sort of, there is also a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 23,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4077532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemiseire/pseuds/Artemiseire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been years since the fall of Corypheus, and Solas has managed to find some peace and quiet.<br/>Of course, it gets interrupted when he finds a little girl lost in the woods. </p><p>Solavellan post-game kid fic with some feels and lots of Fade walking.</p><p>EDIT: I've changed around the ending a bit, and added an alternate ending!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

A cool breeze shuddered through the canopy above, leaves rustling with a soft, comforting hiss. A few stragglers drifted down from their place on the branches, conflicted between the air currents that freed them and gravity.

Solas followed a few of their lazy, haphazard journeys to the ground. Today was one of the few peaceful days he had experienced in years. It was one of the days where solitude was less of a burden and much more of a relief. Those days were common for him, though less so since his time with the Inquisition. He’d gotten a taste of companionship, camaraderie, and intimacy that he had not seen in centuries. Not with any physical being, anyways.

He closed his eyes and let the world around him breathe deep with him, feeling the energies ebbing and flowing with each breath. He couldn’t remember how long he had been sitting there. It hardly mattered. He had been studying some ancient runes tucked away in a forgotten tomb nearby. Contrary to his beliefs so many years ago, they weren’t going anywhere. He had time to breathe.

Craning his neck, he let his head dip back and allowed the sun shattering through the leaves to spill on his face, sending red and white across his eyelids, warming his cheeks. Idly he spread his hands down beside him, combing his fingers and toes through the grass. He could feel every snag of the weeds and blades between his digits, catching on his calloused skin, yet it was so soft in his mind. A natural layer of velvet, stretching for miles, relatively untouched by human feet for centuries.

For once he let his tumultuous mind rest, taking in the natural orchestra of the forest. It was as if he was a vessel for nature to pass through, not truly a living thing. He was at peace.

Until, of course, the illusion was shattered with an earsplitting cry. Solas’ entire body jolted back into itself, eyes snapping open. His eyes protested against the sudden brightness, sending shards of strange colors across his vision. After a few blinks it was back to normal – or normal enough for him to find the source of the scream. He scrambled to grab his bag and staff, preparing for anything.

The cry repeated, much more high-pitched and desperate. It was a cry for help.

Knitting his brow, Solas followed the sounds of keening and sniffles. He crept around a tree, knowing it could be anything. Yet when he peeked around the girth of the tree, he found not a danger, but a small child. A small child in her nightclothes, tugging on her braids with worry as she sobbed in fear, looking around at everything like it was the monster beneath her bed.

He looked around, studying the scene. There was no evidence of anyone else around her. No tents, bedrolls, packs, fire pits…not even footprints. It was as if the poor thing was simply plopped down where she sat. And, judging by her fearful and fretful cries, that was how she felt as well.

He was faced with a choice, now. Help the child, or leave. He wrinkled his face at the thought of having to detract from his studies to take her home –wherever that was. Yet…his heart pulled for her. This innocent little thing, terrified and alone.

He couldn’t leave her.

Carefully, he stepped out from behind the tree, holding his hands up submissively. “Hush, da’len. You are safe,” he hoped his tone was calming.

The little girl whipped around to stare up at him with huge slate-grey eyes, startled out of her tears. Those big eyes rolled over him, evaluating him. He knelt beside her, keeping her just out of his reach in case she felt threatened.

She still had not replied, so he tried again. “You are safe now, da’len. I will not hurt you.”

A hearty sniff was her only response, and she rolled her wrist into her eye, wiping away now-stale tears.

He bit back a sigh and looked around. Now that his angle had changed, he could clearly see that there were absolutely no footprints nearby besides his own. The thick grass had bowed to his weight, and stayed crushed where his feet had been. Nowhere around the child had any sign of tracks, beyond that of an august ram, too far from the child to be of any note. “Where did you come from?”

She sniffed again and he feared she would never speak to him. Perhaps she only spoke orlesian. They were in Orlais after all.

“Skyhold.”

The word jarred him. He hadn’t expected her to speak at all, let alone with such confidence. Her grey eyes pierced him, studying him as much as he did her.

He suddenly realized what she had said, though it made no sense. “Forgive me, did you say Skyhold?”

She bobbed her head and pulled on one elongated ear – a practiced nervous tick.

The child was from Skyhold.

That was half a country away.

“I meant where did you just come from, before you were here. Lydes? Verchiel?”

She shook her head, looking down at the grass beneath her.

He named a few smaller villages, and even some Dalish clans he knew to be traveling in this area, though her nightdress alone was far too lavish to be anything Dalish. No matter what, she just shook her little head.

“Skyhold,” she repeated, her voice no more than a whisper.

“Skyhold.” He was stumped. “When were you last in Skyhold?”

“Today. Mamae laid me down for a nap….I woke up here.” She blinked, the waterworks beginning again. “Mamae…” Her lower lip wobbled. Oh no.

Quickly he hushed her, daring to scootch closer. “Hush, da’len. Everything is all right. You are a long way from home, but I can take you back. You will be with your mother soon, I promise you.”

Her big eyes turned up to him, her dimpled chin still puckered. “Really?”

He nodded and tried a smile on her, which, to his delight, she returned, if a little more wobbly. Slowly, he stood and held a hand out to help her up. “We should start walking. We have a lot of land to cover.”

She nodded and stood, her legs bowed slightly at the knees. Without hesitation, she slipped her little hand into his.

“What is your name, da’len?”

She blinked and looked up at him, eyes as wide as ever. “Netheri. Neth.”

He smiled warmly down at her. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Netheri. My name is Solas.”

She smiled faintly, getting more confident. “Solas.”

This was not how he thought he would spend the coming days, yet feeling the small hand grip at his fingers filled his chest with such warmth, he wouldn’t have it any other way.


	2. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking a break, Solas and Netheri discuss how she got there.

A long while passed in relative silence, save a few sniffles on Neth’s part, before she tugged on Solas’ thumb. He looked down at her, arching a brow.

“Sit.” She said. It was a demand, judging by her tone and the stubborn set of her little jaw.

Repressing a grin, he nodded and led them over to a shady tree. He set his pack down and looked around to ensure that this was a good place to rest. Neth, on the other hand, plopped down immediately and wiggled her toes at herself, pouting a bit. Slowly, he knelt beside her and dug in his pack for some food. He found some dried fruits and offered them to her.

Greedy little hands snatched the fruits out of his hands, yet she only nibbled at them, still looking down at her wiggling toes. When at last the fruits were gone, she shifted to lay in the grass, curling up into a little ball.

He watched her for a moment before digging up some food for himself, and a book to entertain himself as, presumably, she napped. A short while later he realized she was staring at him.

He peeked over the edge of his book and raised a brow. “You should rest, da’len.”

She shook her head, gripping at the grass a bit. “’M gonna fall again.”

He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

Slowly she pushed herself up to sit, playing with the hem of her dress. “Mamae put me down for a nap….and I fell here. I don’t wanna fall somewhere else.”

He closed his book and set it aside. “You…fell here while you were sleeping?”

She bobbed her head. “Was dreaming about Mamae’s stories. Big green trees bigger than the tower at Skyhold. Then I was there.”

He stared at her. He was so overwhelmed with questions and curiosity that he couldn’t think of a single question to ask for quite some time. Eventually he found footing. “You were dreaming of the Emerald Graves…from stories your mother told you? And then you woke up in them? Just like that, one moment in your bed in Skyhold, the next in the forest in Orlais?”

Again, she bobbed her head.

He had dozens of questions for her, yet he knew this tired, nervous little thing couldn’t answer all of them. He decided to settle on the simplest.

“Did you feel any pain when you fell?”

She shook her head. No.

“Any pressure?”

Her brow knit slightly in concentration before she shook her head. No.

“Heat?”

No.

“Cold?”

No.

“Dizziness?”

Pause.

She bobbed her head.

“How did it feel?”

She screwed her face up, pouting a bit and sticking her dimpled chin out. “Like….like I fell out of bed. Like how it looks when you pull a sheet off of a table, like my auntie always does. Everything just….” She waved her hands in the air and stuck her tongue out, making a wet raspberry sound. “But only for a second!”

He watched her, committing everything to memory. He struggled to find an answer to this conundrum. “Are either of your parents mages?”

She blinked, apparently confused by the question. Even so, she bobbed her head. “Mamae is. An’ she says my father was too.”

He nodded with her. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, to explain it in a way that made sense to a child. “What do you know of the Fade?”

Her eyes glittered and she grinned widely, revealing a missing tooth. “Mamae tells me about the Fade all the time! My uncles tell me stories about it….I know everything!” She puffed her chest out proudly.

With centuries of the Fade under his belt, he couldn’t help but snort at this child’s idea of “everything,” when she could only have known about it consciously for a couple of years at most. Yet this was good. He was happy to see youth interested in the Fade, and it would make his explanation easier.

Slowly and carefully, he walked her through how mages have a better connection with the Fade, to which she responded eagerly, obviously having known this already. Then, he told her of people being able to walk in the Fade in their dreams.

Her eyes lit up like stars. “I know that! Mamae tells me about it. I wanna try it. I wanna dream about spirits and demons.”

His chest pulled at the thought of her dealing with demons. “No. Spirits are good, and you would benefit greatly from their company. However, demons are not to be trifled with. They are far more dangerous than most believe.” He barely rolled his eyes. “Even the Templars, with their strict notions of abominations and demons. Demons are but twisted spirits, corrupted beyond their original purpose. Yet they possess a power most do not understand. It is more than temptation and destruction. Do not underestimate them, da’len.”

She blinked and ducked her head, heaving a little sigh. He couldn’t blame her curiosity, or her need to confront monsters. He could remember feeling the same years ago, harboring a need to destroy the wickedness of the world. But fighting evil has its price, one that many don’t take into account.

After a pause, he began his explanations again, giving her a long-winded show of how, perhaps, she had actually managed to slip into the Fade in her dreams as she wanted to do. However, something had gone wrong and she physically fell through to the place she dreamed of.

Her eyes were as wide as the moon through his explanation. Her little mouth parted in an O shape, and she listened to him with the same enraptured attention as most children listen to stories of heroes and champions and damsels in distress.

It did his heart good to see such a young child so enamored with his own passions. Perhaps Thedas had more worthwhile things to fight for than he thought.


	3. Dawning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two have a chat and Solas realizes something critical.

“Are you Dalish?”

The question came out of the blue one day while they were resting to eat. Solas looked up from his meal to find her tilting her head to the side, appraising him.

“No, I am not.”

“Are you a city elf, then?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Her brow knit together, obviously working through this conundrum. “Then what are you?”

Using some bread to hide a smile, he shook his head again. “I am just a wanderer that happens to be an elf. I am not connected to any clan or alienage.”

Dimpled chin wrinkled up to match her brow as Neth worked through this. While the concept was relatively simple, he wasn’t surprised that she couldn’t make sense of it. Usually an elf was wild and Dalish, or they were bound to servitude and poverty in an alienage. Recently that had been changing thanks to the Inquisitor’s efforts, though the change was long and slow. Eventually she seemed to have an epiphany. “The elves in Skyhold aren’t really Dalish…and we don’t have an alienage. You’re like them.”

“I suppose,” he mused.

A thoughtful pause settled between them. Neth’s brows stayed firmly knit together as she nibbled at her food. He knew she wasn’t done speaking, the child was inquisitive and curious. It was a relief to have such an imploring mind to speak with. He hadn’t had that kind of companionship since his own days at Skyhold. However, she needed time to think her questions over, and he took that time to lean his head back against the stone and feel the warmth of the Ferelden sun on his skin.

Eventually she spoke. “Mamae was Dalish.”

He arched a brow but didn’t open his eyes. “Was she?”

A little hum of assent was his reply, Neth’s mouth full of the cheese she couldn’t get enough of. “She had vel….valla….vellis…”

“Vallaslin,” he offered.

“Vallaslin,” she repeated, much slower, as if training her tongue to move just right. “Yeah. She had red branches on her cheeks, she says. Like old metal.”

A flash of warm brown skin and rust-red vallaslin danced over his vision, bunched up on full cheeks taut with mirth, an all-too familiar laugh echoing in his head. His eyes snapped open to end the daydream.

“Is she no longer with her clan?”

Neth shook her head, her lower lip poking out. The sudden cloud over the girl’s head surprised him.

“What happened?”

“Mamae’s clan doesn’t like me.”

He watched as her fingers sought some kind of entertainment, her fingers itching for something to lighten the mood. Eventually, she settled on a little yellow flower nearby, petting the petals gingerly. “And why is that?”

“Mamae says she was s’posed to marry some man from the clan but then she had me.”

Imagining the situation, he realized why Neth’s mother was kicked from her clan, with some Dalish clans’ tendency towards extremes. “I do not suppose that man was your father, was he.”

She shook her head, not looking up at him but intensely focusing on the flower in her hands. “They were mad. She was mad. Now she has me. She’s not Dalish anymore.”

Silently, he cursed the Dalish. Their habits were damaging; leaving a woman with a child for such a stupid reason. However, Neth did say she came from Skyhold. Perhaps she was safer and happier there in the long run, away from the stifling lies of the “last of the elvhen.”

“What does your father think of this?”

Her lip pouted out more. “Dunno. Mamae said he left before I was born.”

He watched the signs of her sadness, his heart pulling for her. “You never knew him,” he murmured, dropping his voice with sympathy.

She barely shook her head, running her fingers over the flower. “No. Mamae says he was smart and kind and she loves him very much…but he’s gone. We have to tell people we lost him in the war, ‘cause then nobody asks questions.” Her head dipped lower, her voice becoming a faint whisper. “I think he just didn’t want me…like Mamae’s clan.”

With a long, slow breath, he watched the lonely little girl before him playing with the flower, and imagined the guilt in her young mind. Her mother lost both her clan and her lover around the time Neth was born. Though these things were likely not entirely on the little girl’s shoulders, she must have thought she ruined her mother’s life. “No, da’len. There must be another explanation. Sometimes people just leave.”

Her little shoulders rose and fell without any real emotion in them, the movement just standing as a sign that she heard him. Letting out a little puff of breath, she watched the yellow dust from the flower’s core fly away in the breeze. “’S okay though. Mamae is free now. She’s not Dalish anymore, and she always says she has a new life with me, better than when she had her vallas…v-“

“Vallaslin,” he corrected once more, not surprised that her tongue didn’t remember the movements from before. He smiled as she chanted the word quietly to herself, trying to get it right.

Then he actually thought about what she was saying.

“You speak as though she no longer has her vallaslin.”

Neth raised her little shoulders, idly pulling the petals off of the flower. “She doesn’t.”

“That’s not possible.” That was a lie, and he knew it all too well. However, there were sparse few people who knew vallaslin could be removed, and even fewer that actually had it done.

She blinked. Wide, innocent eyes looked up at him. There wasn’t a pinch of lie in her body when she said, “No, it is. Mamae took them off.”

_“You are so beautiful.” Bryn’s now-bare skin laid out in front of him. Her warm eyes delving deep into his soul. He never wanted this moment to end._

“How did she take them off?”

Her shoulders bobbed. “She took them off before I was born.”

“But you knew she removed them. Surely she told you how?”

Another flower was being decimated under her little ministrations. “She says my father took them off. She says it was a gift, and he just…waved his hands over her face,” she smoothed her palms over her own cheeks in a demonstration, “and they were gone.”

_The glow from his hands as he performed the spell, his pale skin contrasting with her deep tawny complexion._

Enough of that.

_“My father.”_

His blood ran cold.

He stared at her, fleetingly relieved that she was oblivious to his heart attack. As she studied the little flowers she was destroying, he studied her face, looking for something to calm the sudden fire in his mind, something to tell him it was just a strange coincidence.

Surely there had been some mistake. Netheri was young, perhaps she misheard or misremembered the story, glorifying it to be more memorable or entertaining. Or perhaps she wasn’t lying and some Dalish blood mage removed his lover’s vallaslin. Her mother could have glossed over the ritual required of a blood mage, simplifying it into something that sounded like the more powerful, elite magic he had used on Bryn.

Surely it was a coincidence.

Her features were hauntingly familiar, though rounded by youth. There was little doubt that she was Bryn’s child, simply based on appearance.

And yet…some features were distinctly familiar in a different way, like the little cleft dimple in her chin. Against his will his hand found its way to his own chin, tracing the similar little cleft.

Although facial features alone were no set fact of bloodline – in fact most of her features were simply due to her being an elf – there was still that nagging thought.

As subtly as he could, he reached out to her with his magic, trying not to disrupt her while getting a sense of her aura. She was certainly a powerful mage, dormant in her youth. Fire burned in her power, eerily similar to Bryn’s. But there was much more, buried deep. A green blaze he had rarely seen in recent years…

_The prisoner had a single mark from her passing through the Fade, but it was a powerful mark. A slit of green, burning with an energy so utterly strange to the mortal world. It ate at her, feeding on her life force from its place on her palm. If something wasn’t done soon, it would consume her entirely._

…and a blue flame, much smaller, and much more familiar.

_In the eluvian he could see the remnants of the ritual still haunting his eyes. Tendrils of blue smoke rose from him as he looked down at the remains of one of his oldest friends. For the third time since he woke, he said farewell to someone he truly cared about. She wasn’t gone, yet it was so very different now. He rose and activated the eluvian, swirls of blue morphing over what was once glass._

Like a candle snuffed, everything stopped.

He had to be sure, and though everything seemed to scream the answer, his mind shouted back into the Void. He needed to know it wasn’t true.

Four more flowers were dismantled before he found his voice, somehow managing to keep it calm and conversational. “Netheri, is your mother the Inquisitor?”

She nodded simply without looking up, as if he had asked her something trivial like whether or not this particular spot was good for her as a resting place. Of course she must have been used to that. Bryn never had a moment’s rest from being called “Inquisitor.” He was thankful for that, at least. It meant that Neth had no idea what was happening. All she knew was that this strange man was chatting with her about her mother. Childish ignorance left her blissfully in the dark.

Another few flowers fell apart as he thought it all through. His eyes idly watched her pull each piece apart with an almost surgical precision, while his mind fought with itself.

Moments before he had been angry with Neth’s father for abandoning her and her mother. Moments before he had cursed the Dalish clan that exiled her mother. Moments before he hated everyone who had wronged this little beacon of innocence.

And now he found that the majority of that blame was on him.

He was the man that removed her vallaslin, this was fact. That alone was enough to make some Keepers turn up their noses at someone, vallaslin were sacred to the Dalish, even if that holiness was bestowed on something as terrible as slave markings. But it was not just her bare face that got Bryn booted from her clan. Regardless of who it was, someone put a child in the Inquisitor’s belly, destroying her chances at Joining with whoever her Keeper wanted her to Join with.

And, according to Brynowen’s own child, he was that person. Bryn had told Neth her father was the same man who removed her vallaslin. She had no reason to lie to the girl. It didn’t matter if it was him or someone else that fathered the girl, Bryn’s reputation was destroyed no matter what as she had a child out of wedlock. Josephine must have had a conniption trying to smooth things over. Which, he realized, must have been why they told everyone he was simply “lost” in the war. People would believe he was dead, and Bryn was not an abandoned woman but a sort of widow. It was much more romantic for all those Orlesian nobles, and they could pretend that perhaps he had intended to marry her after all, but lost his life before he got the chance.

All the pieces fit together.

No, his mind would not accept this. There was no way Netheri was his daughter. The timing must have been off, Neth’s father must have been someone else. Perhaps some refugee or soldier that gave Bryn comfort after the battle against Corypheus, after he had left Skyhold.

He pushed away the spark of jealousy that caught his chest.

No, jealousy was foolish. It was far more detrimental if Neth was his, even though his pride would be wounded for a while if she wasn’t. His pride could stand the blow at this point, if it meant preserving everything he had worked for. In the end, it was better if she forgot him. That was the plan all along, was it not?

The final battle against Corypheus was chaotic, perhaps Bryn miscounted.

That must have been it, he decided. He was in Skyhold for weeks after he had removed her marks and left her in that little glade. Even before then, the last time they were intimate was at the Winter Palace, nearly a fortnight before their journey to the Arbor Wilds. During all that time there was no sign of a pregnancy. Surely in the couple months between Halamshiral and the final battle there would have been something, anything.

There was no way it could be right.

If he was, in fact, Neth’s father, Bryn would have to have conceived at the Winter Palace or before, he reasoned. The worst of their fights had occurred afterwards.

The Arbor Wilds.

The Well of Sorrows.

Fighting Mythal’s dragon.

The final Battle.

All of this had happened in that time, and he could vividly remember all the times her face was marred by her own blood. She had taken a number of beatings from red Templars, demons, dragons, and even that fucking Well. Her body was nearly broken time and time again. Surely it would have rejected a child.

And yet.

There sat a little elven girl before him, a pile of flower bits growing in her lap. A little girl whose mother told her it was her father that took away her vallaslin. A little girl whose mother told her to tell everyone her father was “lost” in the war, so nobody asked questions about where he went. A little girl with curious gray eyes.

He needed more information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer chapter here, but a lot was happening!  
> I'm taking a few liberties here with lore and what the heck Solas is doing, but I'm trying to keep it as lore-friendly as possible, all things considered. Sorry if it's not your thing.   
> Feedback is much appreciated, and thanks for the kudos so far!


	4. Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas decides to tell Neth's mother that she's safe.

Solas settled Neth into the bed in their tiny room of the inn, quietly calming her protests that everything smelled like wet dog. Honestly, it was a Ferelden hamlet, everything always smelled like wet dog. After assuring her that he would keep her from “falling” again, as he did every night, he snuffed the candle and she fell asleep almost immediately.

He paced the room for a moment, trying to settle himself enough to sleep. Eventually he set up his bedroll on the floor and laid himself out, staring up at the rotting wooden beams of the ceiling. He reminded himself that Neth would be safe there before allowing himself to slide into unconsciousness and the familiar grip of the Fade.

He let his mind claw through the eons of memories, trying to find the freshest remnant of Bryn.

She was passionate. She latched on to people and protected them fiercely. She must have been going mad without her daughter.

At last, he found her. She was sitting in a small glade he had never seen before. A large willow bloomed above her, sheltering her from a seeping drizzle. She knelt by herself, looking up at the massive trunk of the tree before her, eyes blandly following the curves of bark.

He sucked in a deep breath as he stepped into the sanctuary of the branches. “Inquisitor.”

Her head snapped around, ears flattened back. Her eyes blazed at her ruined solitude. He simply stood, allowing her to evaluate the situation. Briefly, he wondered if she would attack, noting the white-knuckled fists at her side.

However, the moment she realized who he was, she cooled with shock.

“Solas?”

He bowed his head in assent.

Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him. Slowly, she shifted her weight and stepped over to him, closing the gap between them, hands still tightly balled into fists. “Is it really you?”

He barely snorted out a laugh. “Inquisitor, if I were a demon it would hardly be in my best interest to tell you.”

Lifting her chin, she seemed to weigh his words. He would almost see the pieces fitting together behind her eyes.

“Right.” She shook her hands free from their tense position, looking away before turning back to him, stale hurt and anger burning in her gaze. “Where have you been?”

“I have been continuing my studies across Thedas.”

“Skyhold is the center of practically everything, couldn’t you have studied whatever it is you’re studying there? We could have-“

He cut off her biting words. “No.” Leveling his gaze with hers, he waited for her to calm down.

Bryn sighed and rubbed her fingers over her face, shaking her head. “Alright, fine. What are you here for, then.” She set her jaw and looked back at him, allowing him to really see her.

She had not changed much in the handful of years they had been apart. Her hair was different, longer and more intricately braded. A few worry lines had begun to etch their way into her youthful face. Otherwise, she looked much the same as always. He wondered if he looked any different to her.

“I have news for you,” he started, clasping his hands behind his back. “I found your daughter.”

The color seeped out of her face, eyes widening. “You,” her voice was barely more than a whisper, tight with worry. “You found Netheri?”

He bobbed his head once. “She is safe, only disoriented. I believe she may have fallen through the Fade in her sleep. We are making our way back to Skyhold, she will be home within a fortnight.”

She watched him, wide eyes grasping at his features for more information. “She’s safe?”

Again he simply bobbed his head. “As I said before, she is merely disoriented.”

She nodded, though he wondered if he really heard her as her eyes had strayed to some blank spot beyond his shoulder.

He continued, regardless. “I believe this “falling,” as she calls it, is the manifestation of her magic. Just as some people summon ice or water in their sleep, she made a strong connection with her dreams in the Fade and transported herself.”

Bryn arched a brow and nodded, sighing, “It was only a matter of time before she got her magic…” She winced and looked up at him sheepishly, and his chest pulled. He kept a straight face as their eyes connected, though he knew she was carefully considering her words. “Solas…”

Briefly, he thought about telling her to wake up, snap them both out of this and remain hidden from the truth. But he couldn’t run from her again, not here and now. Not when this was the reason he had gone looking for her. “Inquisitor?”

Her mouth opened and closed, she was clearly at a loss for words. She closed her eyes and shook her head before whispering, “Thank you.” She peeked up through her lashes at him. “It’s…good to see you again, after so long.”

He could feel his lips pull in a smile, mostly of their own accord. “It is.” Taking a moment to study her face, he stepped back. “Please, forgive the intrusion, Inquisitor.”

Barely nodding, she sighed. “No, it’s alright. Thank you, Solas. Please…keep her safe for me.”

He bowed. “Of course.” He paused, studying her face for another moment, reluctant to leave. But no, he had to go. “Dareth shiral,” he murmured.

Barely nodding, she replied,”Dareth shiral.”

She turned away and knelt by the tree once more. He took the opportunity to leave that portion of the Fade, leaving her in her solitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter again.  
> Hope you like the Fade cause we're gonna be spending a lot of time here. Sort of.  
> Thanks for the feedback!


	5. Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas takes some time to think things over.

He paced ancient ruins, mulling everything over. His paws shuffled over marble older than him, even. Great spires crumbling into nothing with age towered overhead as he shuffled along, keeping his muzzle to the floor. Burr plants clinging to life dragged their greedy fingers through his fur. He paid it no mind. This was where he came to think, when he wasn’t looking through the vast reaches of time. Glittering mirrors of all shapes and sizes tracked his movements like watchful guardians, making him nothing more than a great white shape in his peripheral vision.

She had not told him he was Neth’s father. But she hadn’t denied it either.

Did it matter?

His chest tore at itself. He knew he had no intention of staying. Regardless of whether or not Neth was his daughter, he still had work to do. His goals had not yet been met, and wouldn’t be for some years. The Veil still rippled, strong in some places, weak in others. Occasionally, demons would tear through the weaker areas and break into Thedas.

He needed that to stop before he could finish what he’d started.

It was proving to take a lot more time than he had anticipated.

He would not be able to stay with the Inquisition for any longer than a few days to clean himself up and replenish his supplies. That would be all. The less said to anyone, the better.

He should never have reciprocated that kiss in the Fade all those years ago. He should have let her walk away from it and never spoken of it again. Better to let her feel snubbed early than….whatever he actually had done.

He should have let her go, stayed the aloof recluse in the tower, keeping to his books and his painting. Perhaps she could have found comfort in someone else’s arms. Perhaps Cullen could have given her the steady life she deserved.

Part of his mind hissed. Cullen was a recovering addict with violent tendencies. However soft and caring he could be, there was always a chance he could relapse or hurt her in a fit. Or worse, deem her unfit to remain the Inquisitor and have her killed or made Tranquil.

He huffed at himself, his heavy breath sending a few dried leaves skittering at his feet.

They would never know now. He had reciprocated that kiss in the Fade. And again on the balcony. He had spent a few nights in her arms in the tower of Skyhold. He had snuck away with her at Halamshiral. He had removed her vallaslin.

Thoughts pulled at his mind, tearing his attention every which way.

This was never supposed to happen, none of it. He joined the Inquisition to right his mistake of giving Corypheus the Foci. That was all.

But he got distracted.

And fuck, did it get complicated fast.

He needed clarity. He needed to know if Neth was his.

As much as he detested going through the memories of people he knew, it was the only way.

Slowly, he stepped back into his normal form, shedding his fur in favor of woolen clothes, and stepped back through memories to find what he needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really short chapter this time.   
> The next few chapters are going to be a slight change of pace as Solas looks through some memories. Get ready for some baby fluff. If that's not your thing, don't worry: it'll go back to Solas's POV in a bit.   
> Thanks again for the feedback!


	6. News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corypheus has fallen, and Skyhold is full of celebration. In the midst of the partying, Brynowen Lavellan comes to an interesting realization.

It had been a week since the fall of Corypheus.

Skyhold bustled with life.

Cries of victory.

Plans for a vast party to celebrate the momentous occasion.

At every turn there was someone wanting to say something, wanting to see the hand that defeated the would-be-god, wanting to worship the blessed Herald of Andraste.

And yet Brynowen felt cripplingly lonely.

Every single one of her companions ached to leave Skyhold, for one reason or another. Her best friends, Varric and Cassandra, were both preparing to leave the country within the next few days. Though she encouraged their leaving, with Cassandra becoming Divine and Varric just eager to return home, Bryn knew she would be at a loss without them.

Then there was the matter of a certain missing elf.

Leliana had her eyes and ears out for any sign of Solas, though both Leliana and Bryn knew full well that he meant to disappear. If he didn’t want them to find him, they wouldn’t.

She knew she shouldn’t feel so stung by his leaving. They had never been anything official, and whatever they had was snubbed out weeks ago.

She ran her fingers over her cheekbones. The skin didn’t feel any different, it wasn’t as if she could physically feel the lack of markings on her face, yet she knew. Her face was bare. A gift to show what she had meant to him. A gift given moments before he left her.

That, she believed, was the real show of how much he cared. She had allowed him to take what most people saw as her Dalish-ness, her heritage and her culture. She had given him her trust, and for a brief moment she felt it had sealed some sort of bond between them. And he left without even looking back.

No, she heard the catch in his voice when he spoke, when he said he couldn’t, when he apologized. The words turned over in her head for the millionth time. And, just as they had the first time, they caught in her chest, snagging and tearing at her heart.

Her stomach lurched.

With a groan she rubbed her face and shifted out of her chair, wandering across her room to wash her face for the seventh time that day. Whatever was bothering her stomach seemed to settle when she rubbed the cool cloth over her face. The room spun as she walked across the floor, the light from the windows shattering across her eyes.

Everything was sensitive, like a frayed nerve exposed to the world. Everything ached and pulled.

_Stress_ , she told herself. _Just the same old fucking stress that’s been pestering me forever now._

She collapsed on the couch by her washstand, gripping at the fabric as her stomach heaved again.

_Just stress_ —

No.

Stress doesn’t make you chuck up your lunch on the carpet.

With a grimace she made a mental note to tell the servants to clean it up, her own hands far too shaky to do it herself.

Gingerly, she stood from the couch, hoping her body was finished betraying her, at least long enough for her to get down to the healers and see what the fuck was going on.

She would never forgive herself if she got sick just in time for Josie’s party. The Antivan would be accommodating, sure, but Bryn would always wonder if the ex-bard would murder her in her sleep for ruining the party she had slaved over for days and many sleepless nights.

The healers would be able to figure it out and give her a potion to make it all better in time for the party the next day.

As slowly and carefully as she could, she made her way down the billions of stairs from her tower, through the servant’s wing, to the healers. Poking her head into the darkened room, Bryn was blasted with the warm scent of herbs. She took a deep breath as she closed the door, hoping maybe just the smell alone would cure her.

“Inquisitor?”

The surprised voice broke her of her self-induced aromatherapy, and she opened her eyes to find a timid looking little elven girl staring at her with eyes wider than plates.

She mustered up a smile as best as she could, knowing she probably looked like death. “Yes…I was wondering if maybe I could see someone for a sick stomach?”

The girl fidgeted, ears flicking. “You could’ve just sent for us, my lady…one of us would have met you in your quarters.”

“Yes. Well. My quarters are…not visitor-friendly at the moment.”

Big amber eyes blinked in confusion.

“Besides, I would much prefer to be here, away from the hustle and bustle of the tower and hall.”

Again, she was met with just a blink as a response.

Thankfully, an older woman came to the rescue just then. “What are you doing here, girl? Go see to Amery’s shoulder like I asked!”

The elf girl nodded quickly and ran away, hiking her skirts up.

Bryn and the healer watched her go, both of them shaking their heads at her.

“Now, your Worship. What can I do you for?”

Bryn took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I’ve been feeling under the weather and I was hoping you could give me something to settle my stomach so I don’t ruin Ambassador Montilyet’s party and some Orlesian noble’s shoes.”

Wizened eyes crinkled knowingly. “I see. Well, if you don’t mind I’d like to give you a quick check to see if it’s simply stress or something more.” The woman nodded towards a smaller room, and Bryn obligingly followed.

Once the door was closed, Bryn couldn’t help but feel caged. Her time as Inquisitor forced her to get used to lavishly large spaces, and this room was barely large enough for a cot and a stool. Chewing her lip, Bryn settled on the cot, legs crossed. Her stomach burbled and she looked for some kind of bucket. However, the moment she found one the feeling ceased.

The healer watched Bryn’s moment of struggle with one thin brow perked up. “It’s nausea getting at you, Inquisitor?”

Bryn nodded, rubbing her shoulder. “Yeah, it comes and goes. Usually it’s just nausea but it’s…I suppose you could say it’s been _productive_ a couple of times.”

The healer nodded once, her eyes scanning Bryn. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

Bryn shrugged, thinking it over. “Oh….a while. It’s been getting worse lately but I suppose it’s been like this since….maybe before we went to the Arbor Wilds? I’m not sure. I didn’t really think about it until maybe a couple of weeks ago. Thought it was just stress, I mean there was a lot going on.”

If it was possible, the healer’s brow crept up even more. She asked a few other benign questions about her health and diet and so forth, all the usual things Bryn was expecting to be asked. Bryn answered every one as truthfully as she could remember. Halfway through the questioning, she had Bryn lie on her back so she could examine her stomach. The movement sent Bryn’s head reeling, but she managed to steady herself by reminding herself that this was going to help get it all cleared up.

Gentle questions and gentler kneading on her belly with warm hands almost had Bryn falling asleep on the little rickety cot. She could feel the magic leaking out of the healer’s hands, searching for more than what she could see or feel without it.

Then the healer paused and appraised her. “Inquisitor, if I might ask a few more…personal questions.”

It was Bryn’s turn to raise a brow. “You are my healer, and I’m sure you’ll just use the information to help me get better. I don’t see why not. I have nothing to hide.” Curiosity and confusion sloshed around in her head.

The healer sat on the stool and weighed her words carefully. “Were you intimate with a man in the last few months, Inquisitor? Before your sickness started.”

It took Bryn a moment to answer, thrown off by the question. Blessedly, shock from this strange question and her own nausea covered the familiar ache in her chest as she thought about those few nights spent in Solas’ arms. “I…yes. It’s…been some time now, but yes.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

The healer ignored her question. “And your courses, are they normally regular?”

Again, Bryn was thrown off. “Normally, yes. I mean they’re not like clockwork but generally they’re in a pretty decent pattern…”

“And your last course was…?”

“It was only last…” Bryn froze when she really thought about it.

Oh.

_Fuck_.

Calmly, the healer watched her have her little epiphany before prodding. “Inquisitor?”

Bryn sucked in a deep breath, tearing her nails into the burlap cot beneath her to steady herself as the room reeled around her. “It was a couple months ago. I…I must’ve lost track with all the shit going on….”

With a gentle nod, the healer continued. “Well, Inquisitor. I think you know what I’m going to say.”

Bryn looked up at her with pleading eyes, begging her not to say it. As if not verbalizing it would keep it from happening.

“Congratulations, Inquisitor,” she said, like easing into a warm bath. “You’re pregnant.”

“I…no. I can’t. I can’t be…It’s impossible.” She babbled uselessly, hot bile rising in her chest as her body protested the news.

Warm brown eyes evenly met Bryn’s. “Is it impossible because you cannot physically bear children, or is it impossible because you can’t bear the thought?”

The truth struck home, and everything shattered around her.

Next thing she knew she was on one knee on the floor, the other leg still haphazardly tossed over the cot. Gravel and grit from the floorboards dug into her palms, the acrid scent of sick rising from the bucket she’d scouted out earlier. Gentle hands held her hair behind her head and out of the way.

The healer’s soft, lilting voice began a little speech of what Bryn needed to do next, how to handle herself and the changes that would come, but it all just sounded like the babble of the great hall. Just an echo rising over her head, going in one ear and out the other.

Pregnant.

_Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So begins the flashback portion of the fic. The next few chapters are going to be a lot like this, little vignettes of the time between Solas' leaving and his finding Neth.  
> Hope you enjoy it and thanks for 1000 hits!


	7. Sera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bryn takes some time to think about what all is happening.

The morning sun strained through the stained glass windows around the room, sending great bright trees across the floor.

Bryn stood by the mirror, nightdress hiked up to her chest. The healer had said she wasn’t very far along, only just far enough to show. At first, Bryn had thought the healer was lying, as she herself hadn’t noticed any difference.

Yet standing there, scrutinizing her profile, she found her lower belly protruded ever so slightly. It was only a little swell, but enough. Enough to prove to her that it was happening.

She was really having a baby.

Creators it was terrifying.

She poked and prodded at the little swelling, brow knit in frustration as she tried to figure out what to do about it. Arching her back, she pushed out her belly, imagining what it would be like further down the road.

The thought sent an electric shock down her spine. She couldn’t think about it. And yet it was all she could think about. She wanted to forget about it, put it behind her and pretend it never happened. But…she couldn’t help but wonder what it was going to be like to carry the babe within her and in her arms. What it would be like to feel it move and grow. What person it would grow to become. Would they be as strong willed as herself or as wise as their father?

She blinked away hot tears. It was honestly a wonder she could even still cry, the night before she thought she’d run herself dry. She had cried tears of fear, of anger, and loneliness. Just when she thought she could manage to get over him this happens.

No, she reminded herself. It had happened before he had left Skyhold. Even before he had left her there in that glade in Crestwood. She was just so cripplingly unobservant and distracted that she didn’t notice the obvious signs.

And he was gone, like spun sugar dropped in water.

Would he ever know? Would he even care?

Her ears burned with anger and guilt. She should have noticed something. Said something. Anything.

But…would it have stopped him?

She always felt like a guilty pleasure to him. Any time they were together it began with him being restrained, almost too careful, and ended with him leaving after giving into his passions.

He probably didn’t think about her at all, wherever he was.

Meanwhile, she would likely think about him for the rest of her life.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Bryn shoved her dress back down to her knees, gripping at the fabric as she whirled around to face her intruder.

Sera tilted her head at her, studying her with a cocked brow.

Bryn wished the vibrant blush over her skin would set her on fire. “I-I was just…looking at some scars from Corypheus. Making sure they’re healing.”

Big brown eyes narrowed. “No, see, I don’t believe that. I didn’t see any scars.”

Bryn hid her face in her hands. “What do you want, Sera.”

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to see what happens when you drop waterskins on that draco-thingy.”

“Sera, you can’t douse my dracolisk in water.”

But Sera wasn’t listening, and Bryn made a mental note to have Dennet keep an eye on the dracolisk.

No, Sera was walking around Bryn, studying her. Every fiber in Bryn’s body hummed, tense as she waited to see what the Red Jenny did next.

“Why were you really lookin’ at yourself like that. Checkin’ out your big butt or something?”

Bryn flicked her ears, irritated. “Yes, sure. I was making sure my big butt looked good for the party.”

Sera let out a little flighty laugh. “Gotta make sure all them ponces see your best asset, yeah? Maybe we can find you some rich tit to toss with, get you over that elfy-“

“Leave.”

Sera stopped and stared at Bryn’s biting tone. “What got your panties in a bunch, not that you’re wearin’ any…”

Bryn’s face burned impossibly brighter. “You barged into my room without announcing yourself and you’re teasing me about the compromising situation you found me in. I want to be left alone.”

Sera hummed. “No, I think you’re just miffed I was gonna call your egg a bad name. Not that it matters, bastard up and left, dinn’e?”

Vibrating with anger, Bryn blinked away angry tears. “Sera.”

“Ooh, touched a nerve, yeah?”

Bryn closed her eyes and let it go. “Yes, Sera, you touched a nerve. I don’t want to talk about Solas right now. Please,” she swallowed hard, trying to get the lump out of her throat. “Please just leave me alone.”

“Yeah alright. Go on then, go back to ‘checking your ass.’”

Bryn watched as Sera retreated down the stairs, and suddenly her heart ached for someone to talk to. Sera was likely the worst possible person to talk to about anything, yet she was there.

No. She needed more time. Just the thought of saying it out loud to anyone was enough to constrict her throat.

And Sera was a terrible person to talk to about this, Bryn realized, remembering the rogue’s snarky laugh when she showed up sans vallaslin. Sera was good conversation when she was in the mood, and now was definitely not the time.

Turning back to the mirror, she smoothed her hand over the faint bump under her dress.

She could end it, she realized. She could end it right then with a simple potion, nobody would have to know but her and her healer. It would solve all of her problems. No confrontations. No more sickness. No scary birth. No raising a child without its father. No constant reminder of _him_.

But…then she would have to mourn her child along with the love that had created it.

No. She was going to have this baby, no matter how bad it got for her.

“Aneth ara, da’len,” she whispered, caressing her budding belly.

It would take some getting used to, but at least she wasn’t alone anymore.


	8. Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bryn finally comes to terms with what's happening.

Bryn pulled at her fingers, pacing the familiar round room. She knew she probably shouldn’t be in that particular area of the castle, not just then, yet it gave her peace.

Looming portraits of her own heroism towered overhead, lovingly rendered in paint upon the wall in bright, unabashedly ostentatious colors. The comforting scent of earth, parchment, and leather clung to the room, though the original occupant was long gone.

She missed him. She called out to him as she slept, hoping he would hear her in the Fade and at least give her an audience for a moment. Just long enough.

Just long enough to tell him she was going to have his child.

Creators, it had been days and it was still a horrifying thought.

No, horrifying was the wrong word.

It didn’t disgust her, but it was certainly terrifying.

Once again she was forced to be responsible for something. Sure, it wasn’t the Inquisition or the fate of Thedas, but it was definitely not nothing. It was a life, entirely dependent on her, at least for a few months. A life that needed her. A life conceived in a now-stale love.

Was it stale?

It was over, that was for sure.

_“Whatever comes, I want you to know that what we had was real.”_

Was. Past tense. It was over before it had even really started. At least it was for him.

Not for her, perhaps. No, she still carried a torch for him. She would have to come to terms with it, get over it as best as she could. Her child couldn’t have her pining after him now, she needed to focus. Juggling an Inquisition and a baby would take work and all of her mind. Some things would have to be cut out. She would start with him.

Not all of him, of course. She had to keep some memory of him if she was to raise his child. But the pining and heartbreak had to go, that was for certain.

She filed aimlessly though the tomes left on his desk, old dusty chronicles on the Fade and elven magic. Her eyes glazed over the pages, trying to ignore her mind that calm lilting voice of his to the words on the page.

“Copper for your thoughts?”

With a jolt, she dropped the book and whirled around to face the voice, breathing fast with shock. “Varric. I-I didn’t hear you.”

The dwarf gave a snort and a knowing look. “I think I could have figured that out on my own, Waffles.”

She shook her head at the nickname and picked up the book from the floor, ignoring the dull sick in her gut. “And to answer your question, I don’t think a simple copper could cover my thoughts.”

“That bad, huh?” He stepped over to her and leaned on the desk. Bryn had to stifle a smile at the fact that the desk only came up to his shoulder. She was still quite unused to dwarves, though Varric had been at her side for over a year.

Sighing weakly, she nodded, running her fingers over the frayed and raw edges of the book. “It’s…a long story.”

Infuriatingly, he just grinned up at her. “I like stories.”

She couldn’t help but smile with him. “Shut up.”

He held his hands up defensively. “Alright, fine. I was just offering to help you vent, I figured maybe you need it. Especially considering you’re still hanging out in Chuckles’ room.”

She could feel her face burst into flame. Didn’t she just say she would work to get over him? “It’s…comfortable. And it’s not his room anymore, not really.”

Varric prodded a skull resting on the desk and ran his hands over Solas’ discarded notes, humming. “Right. Sure. Whatever you say, Waffles.”

Guilt stabbed her right through the heart. She had fought so hard to keep everything quiet and to herself during Josie’s party, and had successfully convinced everyone that she was just peachy. She wasn’t about to give in so soon after that.

Oh fuck it. People were going to find out sooner or later. She rubbed her face, grinding her palms into her eyes. “Varric,” her voice shook and she didn’t bother to hide it.

She could feel him watching her, waiting for more. Taking her hands away from her eyes she saw the mirth gone from his expression, replaced with gentle patience. It gave her the courage to keep going. “I…think I’d like to take you up on that offer to vent. Just…not here.”

He smiled that soft, fatherly smile and nodded. “I thought so.” With a wave at the door, he let her lead the way.

She tried to keep herself calm as she led Varric up to her room, the only place she knew they wouldn’t be overheard. Once they made it upstairs she nearly collapsed on the couch, already worn from the billions of stairs.

Varric simply settled himself on the other end of the couch and looked around. “Andraste’s ass I was wondering if the hike was worth it.”

Willing her stomach to settle, she smiled. “Yeah. It’s pretty nice up here.”

He nodded, appraising the room for a moment before turning his attention to her. “So. This venting you need to do.”

Her hands froze and broke out into a clammy sweat. She cupped her hands together and started a tiny flame, trying to burn off the sweat and bring feeling back into her digits. “I…yeah. I have some news.”

She could almost hear his brows raise, but he didn’t say a word.

Taking a steadying breath, she nearly sighed out the words. “I’m pregnant.”

A little bubble of pride rose in her chest when she realized she had the storyteller stunned to silence.

“Uh….congrats?”

Banishing the fire, she rubbed her eyes. “I guess.”

The idea clicked into place. “Ah shit. Chuckles.”

Her lip wobbled and emotion rose in her eyes, she rubbed harder, only capable of nodding in response.

A warm hand rested on her shoulder, thumb rolling comfortingly. “It’s alright, the Inquisition is here for you. We’ll keep you company and help you out with this. You’re not alone.”

She peeked up at him. “Yeah…but aren’t you going back to Kirkwall?” She blinked when she realized that sounded accusing, and quickly tried to cover her mistake. “I mean, that’s fine, you can do that. It’s your life. I just…you said ‘we’…”

He nodded. “And I meant it. I should get back to Kirkwall and get some things settled, but it won’t take long. I can come right back and be here for you if you need me.”

The tears she had been fighting to suppress spilled over. “But…you want to go home more than anything. I don’t want to keep you here…”

He waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been away from home this long, a while more won’t kill me. Besides. I go where I’m needed, and you need me here. I’m not about to abandon you now.”

She couldn’t verbalize her thanks, and instead chose to throw her arms around his neck, hugging him close. She could feel his surprise at the gesture, but it was only a heartbeat before both hands rested on her back, rubbing lightly.

Reluctantly she pulled away when she felt she could breathe again. “Thank you, Varric. I can’t tell you what this means to me. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You could start by naming the kid after me,” he grinned that cheeky grin that never failed to piss Cassandra off.

She raised a brow. “I’ll think about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the feedback everybody, I really appreciate it!


	9. Advisors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bryn finally breaks the news to her advisors.

Bryn knit her brow, staring at the map of Southern Thedas in front of her. Rubbing her fingers into her temples, she tried to figure out how to delegate all of the silly things she needed to do between her advisors.

This was surprisingly difficult, considering she had to keep pushing back a certain question.

Finally, she gave in.

“Leliana,” she cleared her throat, trying to ward away the shakiness in her voice.

The spymaster looked up, her face as unreadable as ever. “Inquisitor?”

“Have you heard anything – _anything at all_ – about Solas?”

Thin brows slowly knit together. Bryn focused on Leliana’s face, ignoring Josephine and Cullen’s curious eyes. “No, Inquisitor. I am sorry. As I said before, if he does not wish to be found, there is likely nothing we can do. I have asked all of my eyes and ears across Thedas and none of them have found anything.”

Bryn resisted the urge to smack the table. “That’s not possible, you have people everywhere! People don’t just disappear!”

Cullen shifted uncomfortably, and Bryn forced herself to breathe. She was making a fool of herself.

“I am sorry, Inquisitor. I know you were close.”

Bryn ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. Without thinking she murmured, “It’s more than that.”

“More? How so?”

Ice trickled down Bryn’s spine at Josie’s curious tone. She didn’t have the wherewithal to talk herself out of this one, and they would find out sooner or later.

“I…I’m pregnant.” She bit the words out.

A stunned silence fell over the room.

Leliana, of course, was the first to speak. “I see. I will double the efforts to search for him, Inquisitor. However, until then I offer my congratulations.”

Bryn finally managed to take her hands from her eyes. “Thank you, Leliana.” Looking over at her other advisors, she had to stifle a wry snort.

Cullen looked incredibly uncomfortable, gripping the pommel of his sword tightly with one hand, rubbing the back of his neck with the other. “Uh, congratulations, Inquisitor,” he said with a curt nod. Bryn relaxed, she didn’t expect much more than that from him.

Josephine, on the other hand, was staring with wide eyes, and Bryn could almost see the gears working in her head as she tried to figure out how to go about this with the least political and social fallout. “I..oh.”

Bryn ducked her head. “I know this is…not exactly socially acceptable. But I’ve thought about it a lot and I want to keep it, and I want to raise it myself. As much as I can.”

Josephine nodded, making a few notes on her board. Eventually she relaxed and grinned up at Bryn. “I am very happy for you, Inquisitor. A child is such a wonderful thing after a war, such a happy thing. I only worry that the nobility will not agree with me.”

“I understand,” Bryn said, gripping at the table.

“However, everybody loves a good romantic story, and we could easily use this to our advantage. All we have to do is make them believe we lost him in the war, or something of the sort. We lost so many unfortunate souls throughout the last few months, it’s hardly a stretch.”

“And technically, we did lose him,” Leliana supplied. “Lies are easiest when based in truth.”

“Exactly,” Josephine said, writing furiously on her tablet. “We just need to make them believe you were promised or something of the sort, and tragedy struck, as it often does. The Orlesians will eat it up.”

Leliana smiled her subtle smile. “We might even gain popularity for supplying them with such entertainment.”

Cullen rolled his eyes a bit and sighed. He was so very out of his element. Poor man.

Leliana and Josephine continued to explain how to work the situation to the Inquisition’s favor, getting increasingly more detailed with each breath.

Bryn gradually relaxed as she saw how confident they were with it all. Josephine would handle everything, and she would be set. It was going to be all right.

Everything was working out.

Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finished writing the whole fic, so I'm going to be posting chapters a bit more often.  
> Thanks for the feedback!


	10. Lavellan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clan Lavellan visits Skyhold to see Bryn.

_“Your clan wishes to see Skyhold, Inquisitor. They intend to arrive within the week.”_

Josephine’s words rang in her head for the thousandth time. It had been so long since she had seen her clan or her family, and so much had happened.

Though there was some contact between her and clan Lavellan, it always filtered through Josephine. Keeper Deshanna didn’t ask for updates from her First as often as Bryn had expected, likely because her title as Inquisitor kept her from following in the traditional path of a Keeper’s First. Deshanna was probably busy choosing another First and training them to take her place, Bryn reasoned. Not to mention dealing with her new position as councilor to Wycome.

But now Deshanna was arriving at Skyhold. Scouts reported a small cluster of both aravels and human carriages making their way down the main road to the gate. They would be arriving officially soon. Josephine was throwing a fit trying to figure out where to let them stay, as they were more important than the other Dalish clans that had arrived lately. She was also desperate to brush up on her elven, hoping to please the newcomers. On the other hand, she wouldn’t stop fawning over Bryn about how wonderful it was going to be to tell the clan about Bryn’s pregnancy.

It was equal parts charming and aggravating.

In any case, at this point Bryn didn’t need to say anything for them to know she was with child. It was quite obvious as her belly swelled out in front of her. No manner of clothing could hide it now and she had given up on trying. It wasn’t a secret anymore.

Bryn’s heart fluttered and she tried to dry the cold sweat off of her hands. It had been weeks since they had made the announcement, and she had thought she was finished with telling people about the baby. It was ridiculous how much the thought of doing it just one more time set her on edge. Especially since this was her family. They knew her, and she knew them. It had been well over a year, yes, but people didn’t change that much, not in relation to family anyways.

Josephine had set aside a room for them all to meet up, and made sure Bryn was comfortable in it before the clan even reached the gates. Bryn was thankful for this, a quiet place away from prying eyes would allow her to connect with her family once more. Not to mention the chair she had been brought was really comfortable.

She looked out the slim window and out at the Frostbacks, wondering how her family had fared during the long trek through them. She shuddered to think of her own lonely walk through the mountains. The thought alone turned her extremities to ice, but she had learned to rub her hands together with a faint heating spell to get the feeling back.

A light knock on the door was all the warning she got before Josie ushered in their guests. Keeper Deshanna and Bryn’s mother, father, and brother Vanarel all filed into the room, evidently awed by the lush décor surrounding them.

“Andaran atish’an,” Bryn could barely contain her happiness. They hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Keeper Deshanna looked over at Bryn, her deep green eyes as gentle as ever. “Aneth ara, da’len.”

Bryn struggled for a moment to stand, fighting against her belly, and walked over to her family, arms outstretched.

As happy as she was, she was not greeted with the warm kindness she had expected. Instead, every one of the newcoming elves stared, the very air around them all chilling.

“What the fuck happened to your face,” Vanarel’s voice dripped with venom.

The smile fell off of her face, crashing to the floor with her stomach. Slowly she let her arms drop to her sides. She had completely forgotten about her tattoos in the bustle of baby preparations. “I…removed my vallaslin.”

In the back of the room, Josie watched, hand pressed over her mouth.

All eyes were on her. The four elven eyes scoured her face for a long while before Keeper Deshanna finally spoke.

“That is not possible without the use of blood magic.”

Bryn tripped over her words, trying to fix this gaping hole. “N-no, there was no blood magic, just a simple spell. I assure you there was no blood involved-“

“You can’t remove _blood writing_ without _blood magic_ ,” her father matched Vanarel’s biting tone.

“No, there was no blood magic-“

“Why would you even choose to remove them,” Keeper Deshanna’s voice was uncharacteristically cold and quiet. “You went through the ordeal to have them done, and you were honored by the experience.”

Icy claws gripped at her chest. “I…I learned what they truly meant, and I didn’t want them anymore. They were originally slave markings…a master labeling his property --”

“Liar, you just want to be more like these shems,” Vanarel spat.

“No, please, just listen to me I can explain…” Bryn flailed her hands uselessly. Whether she made the gesture to calm the angry elves in front of her or to try and calm herself, she couldn’t tell.

“Then explain why you carry a child with no mention of a marriage.”

Bryn turned to her mother, feeling a twang of betrayal. Her mother had not yet spoken, and she was hoping that she would defend her child.

“I…”

Keeper Deshanna appraised her, jutting out her jaw slightly. “You were to be with Taren.”

Her face burned. “I am aware of that, Keeper, but I thought-“

Stars shattered across her eyes as Vanarel’s hand met with her cheek. The room spun and she gripped the carpet suddenly beneath her hands. Tears spilled over with pain and grief as she looked up at her family and her mentor. None of them moved to catch or protect her from her brother’s burning temper.

Vanarel’s lip curled back over his sharp teeth. “You weren’t thinking. You fucked some shemlen bastard-“

“He was not a shem, he was an elf!”

“Was he Dalish?”

“I…no.” Truth be told, Bryn wasn’t entirely sure _what_ he was.

“Then he was just some knife-eared prick, masquerading as one of the People – how is that any better than a human?”

Her cheek still blazed from the hit, her head still swimming as she desperately tried to grapple with what was happening. Anger and betrayal burned in her chest. “You are such a racist ass, Vanarel.”

“At least I didn’t fuck a shem and abandon everything we fought for!”

She started as if she had been struck again. “Abandoned? The Keeper sent me to the Conclave! And you, Vanarel, you encouraged it! If you hadn’t sent me there none of this would have happened!”

He turned his nose up at her. “Yeah, I encouraged it, but only because I thought you’d strike those bastards down or tell us how to avoid them, not join them.”

Bryn looked at her parents and her Keeper, trying to make them see that this was madness.

But none of them even flinched as he spat insults at her. “This fucking Inquisition ruined you, it’s taken you away from everything you are!”

“How can you despise me for this, when the Inquisition saved you? Keeper, you’re on a council with humans, you run the city of Wycome! You have always encouraged relations with humans…How is this different?”

The room crackled with tension as Deshanna weighed her words, looking down her nose at Bryn.

“I still remember who I am.”

It was as if someone had dumped cold water over her head. Bryn dug her nails into the carpet, working her mouth weakly as she tried to think of how to fix the situation.

“You are no longer welcome within the clan, since you have made it clear that you want nothing to do with being Dalish. Ma banal las halamshir var vhen. Ir lasa mal revas, dirthara-ma.”

The tears stopped coming, Bryn was so overwhelmed her body seemed to have bypassed grief to find peace. Her voice did not waver as she spoke. “If I am no longer welcome in your clan, then you are no longer welcome in Skyhold. Ambassandor Montilyet will see you and the rest of your caravan off the grounds.”

A moment passed, the other elves in front of her pausing. Bryn wondered why Josie wasn’t ushering them out, but she kept her eyes trained on the carpet before her, not really seeing anything.

“Keeper, we cannot afford to lose the Inquisition forces.” Her mother’s voice was a nearly frantic whisper.

Keeper Deshanna gave a little hum, considering the thought.

Bryn sucked in a deep breath, gripping the arm of a chair nearby to help ease herself back up. “You are not cut off from Inquisition aid.” She leveled a hard glare at Vanarel. “I’m not a monster, willing to throw my blood to the wilds to fend for themselves.” He huffed and worked his jaw, muscles bunching in his cheeks. “However, you will no longer receive any special treatment for being my clan, since, as you say, you aren’t my clan anymore. You will be given the same respects and aid as any Dalish clan allied with the Inquisition.” Before any of them could speak she continued. “I will keep the name Lavellan, everyone knows me as such, and changing my name would not only cause confusion, but a scandal that would shame both the Inquisition and your clan.” She let every ounce of anger in her being seep into her words. “I hope that every time you hear the name ‘Inquisitor Lavellan’ you feel the pain of what you have done. I regret nothing, I have remained true to myself and my past. I have worked to retain all that is Dalish more than you could even begin to imagine. By keeping my name I give you an honor you don’t deserve, keeping you connected to the name that thousands across Thedas worship as a hero. I would not be where I am today without your hand in my life, Keeper, remember that before you consider despoiling my name again.”

The four in front of her took in her words, guilt creeping into her mother and her Keeper’s faces. They would try to mend the situation, take back what they said.

But it was too late. They had said the words. No matter what they said now their insults remained. It was a wound they would never heal, not completely. She turned her back on them and touched her tingling cheek. With a small spark of pride at their timing, Bryn listened as a few guards burst into the room to herd her family away, accompanied by a nearly audibly upset Josephine.

No. They weren’t her family anymore.

As soon as the door closed, she crumbled to her knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Ma banal las halamshir var vhen. Ir lasa mal revas, dirthara-ma. – You do nothing to further our people. I give you your freedom, may you learn.
> 
> Bit of drama. Don't worry though, we return to the regularly scheduled fluff tomorrow.


	11. Blackwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a lazy day Bryn gets an unexpected visitor and a gift.

Bryn laid on her bed, amused by the fact that she could no longer see her toes from that position. She had about twenty pillows strewn about her, some silken cushions donated by Josie or Vivienne, some scratchy burlap sacks from the refugees, and a multitude of others in between. It was her day off, Josie had insisted on her taking a day off every other day now that she was advancing in her pregnancy, and she intended to spend the majority of it lounging about on her bed.

She smoothed her hands over the growing mound of her belly, patting it a little.

Much to her surprise, there came a little nudge in response.

The baby had moved before, certainly, but this was the first time it was responding to her. Or at least, seemed to respond to her. She gently poked the area again and gasped when a small lump pushed out under her nightdress. Grinning stupidly, she circled the lump with her finger. When her stretched skin began to ache, she carefully pushed the bump back into place, smoothing her hands over her belly.

She thought that was the end of that, but the baby had other ideas.

Her whole belly contorted, a much larger bump stretching out on the other side from the first as the baby stretched and shifted. It didn’t hurt, surprisingly, though it looked horribly strange. She let out a little laugh. “Da’len, what are you doing.”

There was a little fluttering and everything eased back into place.

 _Strangely adorable_ , she thought.

A solid knock came on the door, pulling her attention.

“Come in,” she called, and sighed quietly as she heard the latch click.

Heavy footsteps grew louder as their owner climbed up to see her. When Blackwall rounded the corner she couldn’t help but stare. He rarely spoke with her, let alone visited. “Blackwall. This is a surprise.”

“I…yes.” It amazed her how such a big man could be so timid sometimes. “I just thought I should congratulate you, on the…” He waved his hand at her. She grinned. “And I was thinking about how to thank you properly for what you did for me in Val Royeaux.” He turned back to the stairs to reveal one of the soldiers walking up the stairs carrying a large wooden cradle.

Her breath caught in her throat and she struggled to sit up, all grace lost on her belly. “Did you make that?”

He ducked his head, yet Bryn could still catch a glimmer of pride about him. “I did. I even took the liberty of scouring the library for elven designs. I hope it’s accurate…”

She stepped over to the cradle and ran her fingers over the designs lovingly etched into it. There were some images she didn’t recognize, and some that were completely wrong. Orlesian griffons fought with Fereldan dogs as Dalish halla ran away. The likeness of birds in the trees was clearly from the Free Marches. The flowers blooming at the base seemed to be like some she had seen in books on Tevinter. Yet it was still a beautiful piece. She couldn’t help but adore the way it innocently combined all sorts of cultures into one cohesive piece. It was perfect for the heir to the Inquisition.

It was even large enough that it would likely be able to hold the babe for a couple years. “Oh, Thom. I don’t know what to say.” She looked up at him, trying desperately to suppress happy tears. “I don’t know if I deserve this…”

“Don’t be foolish. You’re a woman who changed the entire fate of the world, and the woman that spared my miserable life. It’s the least I could do to pound out a little thing like this.”

She ran her fingers over the buffed edges, marveling at how absolutely smooth he had gotten it. “Thank you. Really.”

He nodded before stepping back, retreating into himself again. “I’m honored that you like it so much. But I’ve taken enough of your time, I’ll let you rest.” With another curt nod, he vanished down the stairs.

Bryn stood by the cradle and imagined her baby sleeping in it, dozing peacefully among the branches of mythical trees carved into it, perhaps dreaming of the halla that raced across its sides.

Her heart ached as she thought of her own cradle, and the family she had severed. She sighed as the words echoed in her head, taunting her for her mistakes and screaming at them for theirs. But what was done was done, and she knew now that the Inquisition was her true family. She needed to look forward to the future, not dwell on the past.

Her future was bright.

With each passing day it was becoming more and more real to her that she was going to be a mother.

And it was amazing.


	12. Netheri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Netheri's birthday.

The pains came during the night. At first, Bryn didn’t really notice anything wrong, however, as her body had been doing strange things for months. It wasn’t until the pressure began to grip at her core with an iron fist that she realized something was happening that was more than just routine weirdness.

At that point, she was halfway through a war council meeting. In between coordinating her advisors, she dug her nails into the thick wooden war table, closing her eyes as she breathed through the pressure. After the second – or was it the fourth – wave, Leliana sent Cullen to fetch the healer. Together, Leliana and Josephine led Bryn upstairs to her room. The trip up the stairs was long and much more arduous than she was used to, as they had to stop every so often to let her give in to the intense cramping. She couldn’t tell if she was gripping at the railing or Leliana’s arm. In any case, neither Josie nor Leliana made any comment on her death grip. If she was hurting them, they weren’t about to let her know.

Hours passed in an agonizing blur, pain coming and going like waves on a beach, crashing over the shore and ebbing away. And, like the coast in a storm, each wave was stronger and more violent, ripping away at her strength.

The room bustled with life as people came and went. Runners grabbing supplies for the healers. Healers checking her progress and wellbeing. Visitors coming in to help ease Bryn’s labor.

Honestly, she couldn’t even tell what was going on. She was much more preoccupied with keeping herself calm and strong.

The sun had begun to set when her resolve broke down. She screamed, her voice shattering around the spacious room as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her hands balled up fistfuls of her bed sheets. The healers nearly chanted that she was doing well, that the Maker would guide her through this.

She didn’t listen. She never cared for the Maker, especially not when she was His chosen. He put her through hell and back.

She prayed to Mythal. Or…Flemeth. Or….whatever her name was. She knew she existed. She knew she listened. She called upon the other Creators for strength between the waves of pain, as her mind couldn’t latch on to anything else during those times but the pressure building within her.

She shook her head, whether to clear it or try to get everything to stop, she didn’t know.

A cool hand pressed against her forehead. Whose it was was beyond her. She didn’t care. It felt good, like a flickering candle in the night.

“You can do this, Inquisitor. You’ve fought dragons, you slayed a god. You walked physically through the Fade and lived – twice! You can do this.”

Her mind was far too muddled to even comprehend whose voice it was. Was it a healer or one of her companions? She didn’t care. The words empowered her and she pushed with all her might. She pushed as hard in that moment as she fought against all the dragons that fell by her hand.

It could have been seconds or years that she struggled with the pressure, but it a flood of relief, it was over. Breath caught in her chest as the room erupted with cheers.

She heard a wet smacking sound, and a gasping, gurgling cry that yanked at her heart. Thrusting her arms out, she grabbed at the air, trying to touch her child.

She was handed a warm bundle a moment later, and she clung to it.

“A girl, Inquisitor,” the healer was positively beaming. “A very healthy girl.”

A laugh of pure relief bubbled up from Bryn’s chest as she looked down at the little wrinkled face sticking out of the blanket.

A girl.

She was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Bryn stroked her cheeks and nose with shaking hands, almost scared to touch her for fear of hurting her. Her skin was soft and almost hot to touch.

She was really there.

Tiny swollen eyes opened, weary of the light and dry air, dark blue-grey eyes looked around before looking up at Bryn.

She was really there, and she was alive and well, a weight in her arms instead of her belly.

“Aneth ara, da’len.”

After a moment’s pause she remembered the name she had chosen a few weeks before.

“Aneth ara, Netheri.”


	13. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bryn shows Neth off to her old companions.

Presents had filled up Bryn’s spacious quarters in the months after Neth’s birth. People from all over Ferelden and Orlais sent in anything they could. Simply carved wooden toys and corn husk dolls sat next to porcelain marionettes and gilded chests full of silk and velvet.

Bryn loved them all.

However, she couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the babe, as she herself had very few lavish things as a child. Her first doll – if it could be called that – had been fashioned out of bundled fabric cut from an old shirt.

Now, she supposed, she would have the chance to live vicariously thought Neth. She hoped the child wasn’t going to become spoiled from all the attention.

As she wandered around the room, carrying Neth close to her chest and thinking about how she would work against the Orlesian nobles’ efforts to spoil her daughter rotten, a knock came on the door.

Without even giving her time to answer, he bustle of footsteps on the stairs filled the room. Varric led the train of people, grinning that cocky grin of his.

“And here they are,” he waved at Bryn.

“Varric I-“

Before she had a chance to scold Varric for bursting in, she was swarmed by her old friends. Most of them had been nearly a continent away, and apparently they had all just arrived, likely answering Josie’s invitations.

Bull cast a huge shadow over them, grinning widely at the little bundle in Bryn’s arms. “Is that it?”

Bryn could feel color rising in her cheeks. “Yes, Bull. Elven babies tend to be small. For which I am truly grateful,” she added through grit teeth.

He bent down to get a better look, reaching up with his massive hand to lightly touch Neth’s cheek. Neth wriggled in Bryn’s arms and stared up at him, evidently surprised by someone so big. He positively beamed at her.

“ _Why is it colored like that?_ _Why is it so big?”_ Cole’s dreamy voice drew their attention.

Bull let out a loud laugh. “She’s going to have to get used to weird looking people like me if she’s going to grow up here.”

Bryn rolled her eyes and shook her head, running her fingers over Neth’s peachfuzz hair. “I suppose so.”

“She will also be acquainted with the best and the brightest people in Thedas.” Vivienne pushed Bull aside without even touching him, looking down her nose at Neth. Warmth narrowed her eyes. “She is beautiful, my dear.”

Bryn looked down at Neth proudly. “I think so, too.”

The Enchanter hummed. “She will put many faces to shame in Orlais, and break a great many hearts.” She tilted her head. “If she has her parents’ intelligence, she will be an expert at the Game, I’m sure.”

Bryn cringed at the thought of Neth getting caught up in the life-or-death schmoozing of the Game.

Vivienne picked up on her discomfort and waved one elegant hand. “But it’s too soon to be thinking of that. In the meantime, I had a gift for her.” She held up a small golden box.

Bryn took the box before realizing she had no free hand to open it. “Varric, can you-“

Sturdy hands reached up and gently pried the baby off her shoulder. Neth cooed up at him, little hands gripping at his chest hair. “Alright, fine. You can play with it but no -“ he let out a pained grunt, followed by a sigh. “No pulling.”

Bryn stifled a grin as she carefully opened the intricately carved box. Inside was a golden ring, set with a stone commonly found in the forests of the Free Marches, where Bryn had grown up. “Vivienne...it’s beautiful. But…it’s far too big for her now…”

Again, a simple wave of an ebony hand ushered away Bryn’s worries. “She’ll grow into it, I’m sure.”

“Thank you, Vivienne,” Bryn said, warmth spreading through her chest as she closed the box again.

“Of course, my dear.”

As Bryn set the box somewhere safe, Bull let out a little grunt.

“That reminds me, I have a gift too.” With that, he pulled out what appeared to be a handful of leather strips and handed it to Bryn.

“I…thank you?” She couldn’t figure out what the tangle of leather could be, no matter how she stretched and shifted them.

Bull grinned, cheek pressing up against his eye patch. “It’s a harness.”

Bryn could feel the color draining from her cheeks. She’d heard of Bull’s…reputation. “Bull you can’t give a baby a harness…”

He blinked his one good eye and burst out in laughter, holding his gut. “Not like that, like this.” He took the harness back and started working it in his horns. Eventually, Bryn could see what it was.

It was a harness to keep Neth positioned between his horns – the ultimate piggyback ride.

She couldn’t help but laugh, though the thought of her daughter suspended so high above the ground terrified her.

“I see. Thank you, Bull. It’s…a nice thought.”

He shrugged his massive shoulders and stepped back, still wearing the harness on his head.

“She’s so small.”

Bryn turned to Cole, watching him crouch by Varric and Neth.

“Yeah, kid. This is a baby, a little person.”

Through his stringy hair, Cole knit his brows. “But…you’re a little person. She’s…different?”

Varric snorted. “I’m an adult, she’s a baby. She’s a _new_ little person.”

“She’s….fresh. Everything is strange and beautiful, exciting and new.” He looked up at Bryn. “I like her. She sees the world like I did. Before.”

Bryn smiled softly, not entirely sure what to say.

But Cole wasn’t finished. “She’s different, but…the same. I can see you in her. Him. The magic is the same – old blue magic mixed with green mixed with red. She’s like you and him but…not.”

Bryn could feel all the eyes in the room trained on her. Well, all eyes but Cole and Neth’s. She ignored them, and the pulling in her chest. “Well, Cole, that’s…exactly what she is. A bit of me. A bit of Solas. But…something new.”

“I like her.” He nodded and stepped away. Bryn sighed as the spirit faded away entirely.

“Well,” Dorian cleared his voice. “If that’s finished I’d like to see her.”

Varric stepped over to him, holding Neth out a bit. “Do you want to hold her, Sparkler?”

Dorian almost flinched. “Gracious, no. I see her grabbing at your chest hair and your clothing. She’d ruin my look.”

Bryn chuckled. “Oh come on, Dorian, she’s not that bad.” Gingerly, she took Neth from Varric, grinning at the warm weight of her in her hands, and settled her in Dorian’s arms.

He nearly whimpered, and stared down at the child suddenly in his arms with such a profound discomfort.

“Oh relax, you won’t break her.”

“How can you be so sure? She’s so fragile…and…squishy. And she’s…wriggling.”

Neth seemed enraptured with Dorian’s mustache, pudgy little fingers reaching up to his face. She kicked her feet to try and get a better reach.

“No. No no no. You can’t play with that.” Dorian looked at Bryn pleadingly. “She’s going to ruin it, it took me two hours to get it right today!”

Bryn snorted and took her daughter back, bouncing her a little. “Fine, be that way.”

“I’ve told you before, I’m not good with children.”

Raising a brow, she looked down at Neth, who was still reaching out to Dorian. “Somehow I don’t believe you.”

He huffed and turned away, only to let out a short laugh. Cassandra –or rather Divine Victoria - had been hiding at the back of the group, eyes wide and starry.

Bryn smiled at her old friend and walked over to hug her with her free arm. Victoria shrank away from her, obviously terrified of hurting Neth. Bryn stepped back and held her daughter up so Victoria could see her better.

“She is perfect,” Victoria’s voice was barely more than a whisper. Slowly and carefully, she reached up to touch Neth’s hand. Immediately, Neth wrapped her chubby little fingers around the Divine’s. Bryn beamed as the hardened ex-Seeker melted. She’d wondered if Victoria would be as enamored by babies as she was with other romantic “ladylike” things. She was delighted to find her guesses verified. Victoria’s rough, calloused finger ghosted over Neth’s pudgy fist, terrified and gentle.

Eventually, Victoria managed to look back up at Bryn, tearing her eyes away from Neth. “I was wondering, Inquisitor, what you’ll be raising her as? You have said you don’t believe in the Maker.”

Bryn blinked. She should have realized the paragon of Andrastianism would ask about religion. However, she hadn’t given it much thought. “I…don’t know. I know I’ll teach her about the Creators and other Dalish ideas, but she’s bound to pick up Andrastian somewhere along the line. Whatever she wants, I suppose.”

Victoria nodded a little, apparently satisfied.

Bryn looked around at her old friends, happy to see them all in one place once more. She wondered how Solas would respond to their gifts and questions, and how he would respond to Neth in general.

But she couldn’t think too much about it, Bull and Varric had begun to try and one-up stories of their time with the Inquisition. Bryn wouldn’t miss this contest for the world. Settling in on the bed, hugging Neth close, she let herself relax and enjoy the impromptu party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback!


	14. Interruptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war council gets an interruption during a late-night meeting.

Candle wax dripped from nearly-spent candles onto the map, leaving splotches over little towns across Thedas. Bryn reached over and scraped up the wax as carefully as she could to keep the map from getting destroyed.

They were pulling a late night, trying to coordinate a couple of unruly Ferelden lords who had begun to bicker beyond the norm. Josie, Leliana, Cullen, and Bryn all poured over the map, pointing to various parts of the country the two lords had access to, trying to figure out how to cut them down and get them to behave. It astounded them all how childish these men could be.

It had been a couple hours of debate, and they had all grabbed chairs to sit around the table. Bryn leaned her head on her hand, rubbing a crack in the wood idly with her finger as Leliana and Josephine prattled on and on about how best to cut them down. Her eyelids grew heavy, mesmerized by the flicker of the candles.

The door creaked open, calling their attention. Expecting a scout, they all turned to see who came in.

They were all surprised to find little Neth in her nightgown, hugging her little nug toy. Leliana smiled her faint smile, Josie and Cullen relaxed when they realized they weren’t going to have to deal with some scout’s bad news. Bryn slowly stood and walked over to Neth, taking her outstretched hand. “What’s wrong, da’len?”

“Bad dream,” she mumbled, the words tripping tiredly over her tongue.

Bryn lightly pet Neth’s braids, kissing her forehead. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Neth shook her head before walking over to the table. She struggled to sit on Bryn’s vacant chair, kicking her feet a bit. “Wanna watch.”

Every adult in the room raised a brow, knowing full well the conversation would bore the poor kid to death. But it’s what Neth wanted, and Bryn knew it could possibly help her fall back asleep.

So, Bryn stood by the chair and picked up where they left off, her advisors took a moment to adjust to the newest member of the council before getting back to work.

After a few minutes of talk, they were all surprised to find a nug attacking their markers, knocking a few of Cullen’s troops over, complete with growling noises and roars.

Josie barely managed to stifle a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. Neth grinned brightly back at her, shoving her toy over to the Antivan with a little roar, knocking over more pawns in the process.

“Commander, it seems your troops have been defeated by an unforeseen force,” Leliana said, leaning back in her chair.

“So it would seem.” Cullen leaned in to try and fix his toppled markers, only to have the nug plushie attack his fingers.

Bryn couldn’t hold back her laughter, and once she let it out her advisors followed suit. Neth looked positively smug at getting all the grumpy adults to laugh.

But they still had work to do.

Bryn gently nudged Neth back to her seat, tucking her nug toy in her arms safely. With a quick kiss to her forehead, she turned back to the table and tried to figure out where they left off.

Negotiations and tired bickering ensued, and Neth quietly watched from her chair, much to Bryn’s relief.

Then there came a soft buzzing snore, and Bryn realized why her usually energetic daughter was being so calm.

She was dead asleep.

With a sigh, Bryn turned back to Neth and gently scooped her up in her arms. “I think maybe we should call it a night. We’ve been at it for hours already. This little tiff isn’t even worth it.”

She turned away before Josie could explain why the “little tiff” was, in fact, quite important.

Neth snuggled up in her chest, sucking on her knuckles as always. Bryn managed to make the long climb up to her quarters without waking her, and settled her into bed once more.

Seeing the peacefulness on her daughter’s sleeping face gave her hope, something she had been desperate to find for years.


	15. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While spending some time together in the Skyhold garden, Neth asks Bryn some questions.

The garden of Skyhold was bursting with color. Bright blues and soft purples, strong reds and gentle whites, all scattered across a thick blanket of verdant vegetation. The plants of the garden seemed to bow overhead, encasing Bryn and Neth in a little secret globe of green.

Neth stroked the velvety leaves of a lily as Bryn braided her hair. The two were nestled together, hidden from the bustling world of Skyhold. Bryn adored moments like these, quiet moments with just her and her daughter, surrounded in as much nature as they could get at the keep. Weaving lazily intricate designs into Neth’s thick, dark hair was a better way to relax Bryn than a nap these days.

“Mamae,” Neth’s voice was a gentle question, as carefree as Bryn’s fingers in her hair.

“Yes, da’ean?”

“Tell me about the war.”

Bryn sighed, there was so much she couldn’t tell her. Not yet, if ever. She was just a child, she didn’t need to know all of the horrible stories of blood magic and rituals, dragon fire and demons.

But there were some things she could say.

“Well, you know the basics. I fell through the Fade, met a bunch of people, got whisked away to become the Inquisitor, saved a bunch of people, killed some dragons, and ended a would-be god.”

Neth wiggled in her lap, writhing around to face her. Her little lip poked out, obviously displeased with that summation. “I wanna know more. Uncle Varric said you found a temple to Mithel-“

“Mythal.”

“Mythal. And you drank…something…and learned all the secrets!”

Bryn raised a brow wryly. “All the secrets of what?”

Big grey eyes blinked. “Well…everything!”

Bryn chuckled and stroked her eager child’s cheeks. “I didn’t learn everything. Just the ancient secrets of the elven goddess Mythal. Which I suppose is quite a bit, just not everything.” She thought for a moment before lightly tapping Neth’s nose. “You were there, you know.”

Neth gasped a bit before thinking about it. Pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes she shook her head. “No I wasn’t. I would know!”

Bryn hummed and continued braiding Neth’s hair. “But you were. You were with me, in my belly. You were with me for the last of the war, from about the Temple of Mythal, through the battle against Corypheus.” She smiled warmly at her daughter’s wide eyes. “You were my good luck charm.”

“Really?” The word was barely a breath, her little hands tangled up in the front of Bryn’s tunic.

“Mhm,” Bryn nodded. “You were there for it.” She grinned wider. “You’re a hero just as much as I am.”

Stars danced in Neth’s eyes. “I’m a hero.”

Bryn laughed lightly, the sound carrying through the trees around them. “Yes you are.”

“I was there when you fought Coryfuss?”

“Corypheus, yes.”

“With Aunt Victoria?”

Bryn nodded. “Yes, but she was just Cassandra then.”

“And Uncle Varric?”

“Oh yes, though I’m sure he wishes he wasn’t there for that particular battle…”

“And Father?”

Bryn paused. “Yes, he was there too.”

Neth sucked on her lower lip, thinking. “We were all together then.”

A twinge of guilt pulled at Bryn’s chest. “I suppose we were. Though none of us knew it then.” She rubbed her thumb over Neth’s cheek. “I didn’t know you were coming until after he was gone. You were a pleasant little surprise just for me.”

Neth’s brow slowly knit together and she nodded. Bryn knew her daughter, and she knew the little girl thought she was lying. She suspected Neth thought her father knew of her before he left, possibly that she was the reason for it. Bryn couldn’t tell her the truth of why Solas left, she hardly knew herself. But she was determined to keep her daughter from thinking it was her fault.

Neth curled up in Bryn’s chest, pulling at an accent piece on her sleeve. “I love you, Mamae.”

“Ar lath ma, da’ean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:   
> Ar lath ma: I love you  
> da'ean: little bird


	16. Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their way to Skyhold, Solas and Neth have a run-in with some bandits.

It had been over a week of travel, with the last few days consisting mainly of Solas mulling over his revelation. Neth didn’t seem to notice his silence, and toddled alongside him. Or rather, napped in his arms. The landscape had become increasingly steeper, they were drawing nearer to the Frostbacks. Her little legs couldn’t handle some of the slope, and he was tasked with carrying her.

He didn't mind. He knew the trail well, it was practically engrained in his soul. He knew every step of the journey, and this way he could keep Neth safe from straying too close to a ledge or some such catastrophe.

It also gave him a chance to hold her close, and he clung to her. He memorized her weight in his arms, trying to make up for lost time.

Yet he was also preparing for the day when they had to go their own separate ways. He could not stay with her, or at Skyhold. This would be his only chance to be so close to her, to act as her protector, her tutor. Her father.

He knew she was in good hands at Skyhold. She had been all her life. Through most of her life he had never even existed. Even as he carried her up the frozen mountain, she still had no idea who he was, beyond a random elf who happened to be kind enough to take her back home.

If he had his way, he would remain just a strange elven man in her mind. Perhaps it would hurt less than knowing her father left her twice.

Bryn on the other hand…

No. He would not think of that. He had his duty.

A gentle tug on his ear drew his attention.

“Cold.”

Her voice was a sleepy whisper. He looked over at the horizon. The sun was slowly sinking out of view, the darkness of night creeping closer, reaching out its greedy fingers to envelop them.

Bedtime, then.

He found a decent place to stop and set her down, wrapping her shoulders with his furs. As quickly as he could, he built a fire pit. Carefully, he summoned a small flame and lit the tinder. Neth scooted closer to the fire, watching its tongues lick at the sky. Solas watched her for a moment before setting up a small shelter nearby, getting everything set so she could sleep comfortably as he stood guard.

By the time he finished Neth had fallen asleep, lulled by the gentle crackle of the fire. He couldn’t help but smile at her. As gently as he could, he scooped her up in his arms once more and laid her in the makeshift bed, tucking her in to keep her warm.

He sat at the opening of the tent, watching the flame and the horizon, flicking his ears at any strange sounds.

Hours of near-silence lulled him just as it had Neth. His eyelids grew heavy, and he shifted his weight to hug his legs to his chest, letting his knees hold his head up.

That proved to be a mistake.

The only warning he had was a bloodcurdling cry as four bandits charged.

He lurched into action, throwing flames and lightning at them as much as he could without a staff to focus the energy. As an afterthought he put up a shield around himself and the tent.

He could only hope Neth stayed out of sight.

The bandits had shields, which proved to be troublesome as they deflected his spells. This allowed the biggest of them to get close.

Before Solas could defend himself for up-close combat, the metal shield collided with his face, tossing him back.

The world spun, and he dug his fingers into the soft snow and hard ground to keep himself steady.

“Ser….there’s a little girl in here.”

“Let me see.” Solas struggled to watch as the biggest bandit shoved into the tent. He could hear Neth shriek. Shoving himself up, he threw as much power at them as he could muster, his energy draining painfully fast.

“Keep him down!”

A heavy boot collided with Solas’ chest, pinning him to the ground and knocking out his breath.

“Just a little knife-ear…’S no good to us.”

“But some noble might like a new kitchen wench. Might fetch some gold.”

Solas clawed at the leg keeping him pinned, jamming his fingers into weak points. Finally, he gave up and punched the bandit in the crotch. He fell like a tree.

Jumping to his feet, Solas blasted the bandits furthest from Neth with a wall of ice, freezing them in place. Offhand, he threw a shard of ice at the bandit on the ground, killing him. Setting his jaw, he turned to the last bandit.

Unfortunately, the bandit seemed to realize how important Neth was, and had a knife pressed against her jaw. Neth wriggled everything but her head, trying to get away without getting cut. Her pitiful whines of fear only added fuel to the fire blazing in Solas’ head.

“You want this little shit? Don’t take another step, and I won’t cut off her pretty little head.”

Solas froze. Light from the still-lit fire glinted off of the knife and Neth’s tear-stained cheeks. He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t have to move to summon the magic to kill the man. Shifting into a better stance, he lit his hand on fire, preparing to send a ball of flame at him.

Neth’s shriek of pain stopped him, and he watched in horror as the bandit dragged the knife down her cheek.

“What did I fucking say!”

He bit back a smart response that he had not, in fact taken a step. Instead, he dropped his hands, banishing the flames.

Neth whined as he stood down.

The bandit sneered and shifted to leave. Obviously, he thought he was holding Neth just right to use her as a shield.

He forgot about his feet.

Solas waited until just the right moment, when the man was far enough away to feel like he’d really won. Then, in a smooth and quick movement, he jerked his hand up, tugging the earth beneath the bandit’s feet up. It shattered and a few chunks hit his legs, his crotch, his chin, his arm. He fell back, his knife barely grazing Neth’s chin as they dropped to the ground.

Solas ran to her, snatching her away from the bandit. He put her in a safe place and grabbed a discarded sword to finish the job. “Close your eyes,” he instructed Neth. Her hands slapped over her face.

He took the head from the biggest bandit before releasing the two trapped in ice. As they stumbled to regain their footing and shake off the cold he unceremoniously stabbed them through the chest, grimacing as their warm blood scalded his hands.

Once they were all dead, he turned to Neth.

Her cheek was bleeding profusely. The knife had nicked a thick vein close to her neck. She wavered as he walked over. He managed to catch her before she fell over, consumed by fear and shock.

He pressed his hand to her cheek, trying to summon his healing magic to mend the wound.

No energy came.

He swallowed hard and shook his head. No, he couldn’t be out of magic. Not now. He pressed his hand harder against her cheek, and she whined in pain.

Her little hands gripped at his sleeve, wide, glassy eyes looked up at him, pleading.

He couldn’t do it. He had no magic.

He needed lyrium. Now.

Taking his hand away from her cheek, he pressed her own into the wound. He knew she was too weak to keep the pressure up, so he had little time.

Two steps had him by his bag, and he frantically tore through its contents until he found the little blue bottle. Ripping the cork out, he chugged it before stumbling back over to Neth’s side.

Quickly, he replaced her hand with his own once more, knitting his brow tightly as he fought to summon the magic, willing the potion to kick in.

At last he felt the energy flow to his hand, a soft green light emanating from his palm. Neth blinked and sniffled, gripping weaker at his sleeve as her cheek closed up.

When at last he pulled his hand away, satisfied that the wound was closed and healed, he saw it had left a scar. A long, thin line from her cheekbone to her jaw.

Even if Bryn had forgiven him for leaving, she would certainly never forgive him for this.

At least Neth was alive and well enough, considering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Solas' POV for the rest of the fic. Thanks for all of the feedback!


	17. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Neth finally make it back to Skyhold.

Solas knew the looming shadow of stone better than anyone, and yet it had changed so much in the years since he had left. Flags and banners dotted the trail and the main gate, and a few new statues had been added as well. Halla, he noted. Stag-like symbols of the Dalish. No Orlesian noble convinced Bryn to have them erected.

Neth was practically vibrating with happiness in his arms, and he was pleased to see her regaining her energy so quickly after the attack. She waved at the guards with her pudgy little fingers, and Solas noted the look of relieved shock on their faces as they opened the door.

It was a struggle to keep his pace up as he walked down the long bridge to the keep. He knew Neth wanted him to speed up, or better yet let her go free. But he couldn’t just leave her unattended, even in Skyhold, no matter how much he wanted to leave.

Many people didn’t recognize him, which was a relief. Others didn’t even notice him, as they were far too preoccupied with the fact that Neth was home safe. As he climbed the steps from the gate to the keep, he could hear the hiss of whispering. He could feel the eyes of the Inquisition on him. Neth seemed to thrive off of it, waving at everybody.

The great wooden doors to the main hall were open, as always, and he walked right in. The old familiar scent of spices and lit fires washed over him, seeping into his very soul. He had to stop himself from turning into his old room, forcing himself to look straight ahead at the towering stained-glass windows.

Neth writhed in his arms, whining to be put down. Finally, he gave in and set her down gently. Instead of running to the war room or the Inquisitor’s quarters like he was expecting, however, she veered right and smashed into Varric’s back, hugging him tightly.

Solas watched as the dwarf stiffened, and considered leaving as he knew Neth was in good hands. Yet…he wanted to see this through. So he shrunk back and leaned against the wall.

Varric turned and gasped when he saw who was hugging him, breaking into a wide grin as he hugged her back. “There you are, Peanut. We looked everywhere for you…”

Neth beamed up at him, her voice a breathless babble. “I fell through the Fade in my sleep and found a nice man who took me home.” She turned and grinned up at Solas.

He couldn’t help but smile faintly in return at her big, innocent eyes.

Until he heard Varric’s nearly-inaudible murmur of “Ah shit.”

Raising a brow, Solas turned to Varric, nodding politely. “Varric.”

Varric lifted his chin a little. “Solas.”

Solas barely had time to think about the lack of Varric’s usual nickname before Neth tugged at Varric’s shirt, getting his attention.

“I wanna see Mamae.”

Varric softened and took her hand. “She’s in a meeting, but I don’t think she’ll mind the interruption.” He turned weary eyes up at Solas, his voice thick with reluctance. “You should probably come too. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

There was no point in arguing, though Solas had no intention of telling anyone anything. He followed them to the war room in silence. Idly, he looked around to see the changes made to the great hall, noting a few new statues or tapestries, and ignoring the nobility giving him dirty looks.

They passed through Josephine’s office, and Solas was briefly happy that she wasn’t there before he remembered she was in the meeting and would see him anyways. He hoped the celebrations for Neth’s safe return would be enough cover for him to leave.

Varric hoisted the huge doors open and sauntered in. Three pairs of eyes glared up at him for the intrusion.

“Pardon me, but I have someone who would like to see the Inquisitor.”

“Varric,” Cullen’s voice was ragged with exhaustion through the warning.

Neth shoved past Varric and shrieked when she saw Bryn, who had not yet turned around. “Mamae!”

Bryn froze and whirled around, eyes wide with shock. She collapsed to her knees and pulled Neth into a tight hug, gripping at the little girl’s hair. Solas could barely make out her incoherent elven babbling. Guilt stabbed him in the gut, and he sunk back into the shadow of the doorway.

The other advisors watched with wide eyes. Josephine covered her mouth, hugging her tablet to her chest. Leliana got over the shock relatively quickly, smiling softly with Varric. Cullen looked simply dumbfounded and utterly relieved.

Bryn finally managed to pull back, stroking Neth’s cheeks. He watched her finger brush over the new scar, worry knitting her brow. “Da’len…what happened?”

Neth glowed with excitement. “We got attacked, he saved me!” She wriggled around to point a finger at him.

Bryn’s eyes locked with Solas’, anger rising in her cheeks as her ears pressed back to her head. He knew the others were likely giving him equally livid looks, but he couldn’t look away from the Inquisitor.

“Bandits caught me off guard.” He knew it was hardly an explanation. If anything it made it worse. The room seemed to get colder as every one of the adults glared at him.

Neth, however, was oblivious to the tension in the room. “There were five of them-“

“There were only four, Netheri.”

Little brows furrowed. “Four.” She thought about it for a moment before continuing. “It was amazing, they had him pinned and everything and he killed them all!” She slowed down a little as she remembered the scarier parts of the encounter. “They wanted to take me…and the one had a knife…” She poked her cheek. “It hurt,” she pouted.

According to Bryn’s face, nothing Neth was saying was helping. Solas watched as her chest and shoulders rose and fell with quick, angered breaths.

“But its okay! He killed him too! And then he healed my face.” She smiled. “It was warm, and it didn’t hurt anymore.”

Slowly, Bryn finally relaxed, and he knew she was just shoving the thought back in her mind to deal with later. The tension around her dissipated as she hugged her daughter close. “I’m so glad you’re back, da’len.”

Neth nuzzled Bryn’s shoulder, clinging to her tunic. “Me too. It was an adventure…like all the stories you an’ Uncle Varric tell. But…I wanna be home now.”

Varric smiled warmly at them, and Solas was pleased to see the advisors relax as well.

After a long pause, Bryn finally looked up at Solas with emotionless and guarded eyes. “Ma serannas.”

He bowed his head. “Sathem lasa halani.”

She hesitated once more, straightening Neth’s dirty nightgown mostly out of a need to do something with her hands. “You need supplies and rest, I’m sure.”

He nodded simply. “I do. I would appreciate it if you allowed me to trespass on your hospitality for a day or two.”

“Of course.” Bryn stood and turned to her advisors. “I think we’ll have to continue this later. You understand.”

After a few murmurs of agreement, the three humans left. Bryn gathered Neth up in her arms and kissed her cheek as she carried her away. It warmed his heart to see them both so happy together. He watched them leave, trying to keep a straight face.

With a sigh he looked down, only to see Varric eyeing him suspiciously.

He arched a brow back at the dwarf. “Yes?”

“You know who the kid is, don't you.”

“Of course, she is the Inquisitor’s daughter. That is why I brought her back here.”

“No, I mean you know who she is to you.”

Solas knew full well that was what Varric meant, just as he knew nothing he could say would deter the infamous storyteller. “I have a guess.” Varric opened his mouth to answer, and Solas quickly cut him off. “However, I would prefer to keep it at a guess unless the Inquisitor herself either confirms or denies it.”

Varric pressed his mouth into a thin line, appraising the elf in front of him. “Fine.”

Solas nodded and turned to leave, figuring the conversation had ended from Varric’s hard tone. He could feel the knowing eyes on his back as he walked down the hall, but he didn’t let it get to him.

In a few days it would be over. He would be alone again, and everything would go back to normal.

No matter how much it hurt to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:   
> Ma serannas – Thank you  
> Sathem lasa halani – Pleased to help.


	18. Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Bryn have a chat.

Solas sat in his tower, listening to the gentle hum of people around him, in both the library above and the hall outside. He could hear Dorian bantering with Cullen about pointless things like how to keep hair straight and frizz-free. Thick Orlesian accents laughed incessantly about nothing, gossiping about who was sleeping with who and so on. It was ridiculous.

And yet.

He was home. He had gotten used to people around him, people utterly oblivious to the horrors of the world around them. Constant reminders that the world was perhaps not as terrible as he thought when he woke up from his sleep. It was comforting.

He knew it was wrong of him to stay. He couldn’t afford to keep getting distracted.

He couldn’t –

“Solas?”

All thoughts cut off at the weakness in Bryn’s voice. He looked up at her from his seat at the desk, keeping his expression polite. “Inquisitor?”

She studied him silently for a moment before walking over. Tenderly, she ran her fingers over the edge of his desk. She sucked in a deep breath, steadying herself. “We need to talk.”

After a pause he nodded. “Here?”

Bryn looked up and flushed when she noticed both Dorian and Cullen looking down at them. “I…don’t think so. Too many ears. Though…” she sighed again. “It’s nothing they haven’t heard.”

Slowly he nodded and stood. “Shall we take a walk, then?”

She didn’t look up at him or say a word as she led him out of the castle and onto the battlements.

The wind was brisk, cutting through the two of them as it barreled down the mountains. From their position, they could see for miles down the Frostbacks, with only the mountains themselves and the atmosphere cutting off their sight.

Solas kept his head high, absently watching the scenery between tossing glances at Bryn beside him.

She leaned heavily against the guard wall, looking down at the stone under her instead of out at the mountains. She was wrestling with her thoughts, he’d seen her like this a few times before Corypheus was defeated.

This was different, however.

He waited for her to gather her words, patiently shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Thank you for bringing her back.”

He folded his hands behind his back, keeping himself as guarded and polite as possible. “Of course. I told you I would bring her back safe, and I did.”

 Finally, Brynowen turned to him, an intensity burning in her eyes. “You let her get hurt.”

“No. I got distracted. I did my best to keep her from being hurt. Considering I was exhausted and facing five well-armed bandits on my own – “

“Yes, fine.” Bryn rubbed her face as she cut him off. “I’m sorry. I just…this is incredibly overwhelming.”

“I understand, Inquisitor. Forgive me, I had no intention of causing discomfort. I will be leaving in a few days, once I have rested and restored my supplies.”

She paused, her brow tightly knit. “No, it’s not that. You don’t have to leave so soon…”

“I do.”

There was a pause at his sharp tone, and he regretted being so terse with her.

No, enough of that. He had gotten distracted enough. He needed to cut ties with Bryn and Neth as soon as possible, protect them from the complicated web of his life.

He needed to cut ties to keep himself focused.

“Solas.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. Unconsciously, he lifted his chin, looking out at a bird flying overhead as he prepared for the conversation they were about to have.

She waited for a response before looking away. “You’re not an idiot. You know she’s your daughter, don’t you.”

The confirmation of his suspicions stabbed him through the chest, though he did his best to keep her from seeing him flinch. “I had a guess that was the case, yes.”

He heard her sigh, the sound thick with relief. Likely relief of having it off her chest. He was glad for that, at least one of them found solace in the confession. It only complicated matters for him.

“She likes you, you know. Thinks you’re a better teacher than Dorian or Varric.”

He let out a tight, snorting laugh. “I doubt they would agree with her on that point.”

She laughed, a short sound that bubbled up from her chest. It both delighted him and pained him. “No, I don’t think they would. Which is why I won’t be telling them that.”

Solas hummed. “That is for the best.”

Bryn let the tensions ease between them, obviously unaware of his inner turmoil. Good, he thought. The less she knew, the better.

She looked over at him, her eyes much softer than before. “Stay, please. The Inquisition could still use you…and Neth would want you to stay.”

He looked back at her, knowing his carefully guarded expression was beginning to crumble. “I can’t, Brynowen.”

Pain leaked into her eyes. “Let me guess, in another life you would stay.”

Closing his eyes, he turned away. “I did not come here to reopen old wounds.” She opened her mouth to give him a heated retort, but he spoke up quickly to cover it. “In any case I will stay for a few days. I have obligations elsewhere that I must attend to –“

“Let the Inquisition help you, we have eyes and ears everywhere across Thedas. Please, Solas.”

He stayed quiet, thinking.

She was right. The Inquisition could help him.

Or it could destroy him.

“We shall see, Inquisitor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding in this chapter real quick! Sorry for the confusion as I change around the ending at the last minute!  
> Thanks so much for all the feedback!


	19. Debating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas carefully considers his options.

Solas walked the battlements of an ancient dwarven palace, one that had been destroyed decades before. No spirits or memories bothered him. He was engulfed in silence, the heavy stone sky above pressing down on him as he paced.

He needed this peace and quiet to think through the difficult choice laid out before him, and only the deepest corners of the Fade would grant him the solitude he required.

His talk with Bryn had settled some of the old tensions between them. They had spent a few hours walking the grounds, idly chatting about anything that came to mind. While he knew that would help in his leaving, being on good terms with her again, he also knew it had done its damage. Seeing her again, being in Skyhold, it all felt so comfortable, so right.

He honestly should have left by then, the longer he stayed the harder it became to leave.

His mind warred with itself, struggling between keeping him there and leaving.

If he stayed it would be incredibly difficult to continue his work while keeping his secrets to himself. Not impossible by far, but difficult. It would take considerable effort to keep on track. With the Inquisition on his side, however, his reach was extended across Thedas.

One man can only do so much, even if he was what the Dalish revered as a god.

His work would slow down significantly. He would have to pick and choose his battles to keep his secrets. And, if he stayed he would be taking up the reins as Neth’s father – or at least a mentor of sorts. Again, it could be done, no matter how difficult. While his work needed to be done soon, his definition of “soon” differed from others’. If he played his cards right, he could slowly pick away at his goals while enjoying life at Skyhold until the natural decay of life took over. Bryn was not immortal, and Netheri would grow up and become a woman in her own right. He wouldn’t be necessary then, and he could slip away, back to his own devices once more without the pain of severance.

Was it worth it though?

It would be a distraction, staying in Skyhold with the woman he loved and his child. If he left he had the chance to focus his efforts entirely on his work. He would be able to make a clean cut from Bryn and Neth, possibly even giving them the chance to move on without him. His problems, the Rifts, everything could wait, certainly, but for how long? If he misjudged the urgency of any one little thing he could lead to the destruction of everything he held dear. His remaining in Skyhold was an unknown threat.

He loved Brynowen. He had never said it, knowing he needed to leave her eventually, but he knew she had picked up on it somewhere along the line. The past few years had been dedicated to pushing her out of his mind, to moving on, but the heart is a fickle thing. While his time with her was no more than a blink of an eye to him, he knew he would never forget it.

Netheri had such potential, he wanted to help her realize it. He wanted to be there for her. He wanted to see who she would become as she grew. He wanted to be a part of her life. Firsthand, not through the Fade.

The fact that he was her father could have very significant effects on her life, and he wanted to diminish the threats as much as possible.

The choice was difficult.

And yet…

He knew what he needed to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise I added another short chapter.   
> Sorry this is getting all jumbled, I promise I'm almost done! Thanks for sticking this out with me, and thanks again for the feedback!


	20. Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas leaves Skyhold.
> 
> EDIT: This is the "canon" ending for this fic, however an alternate will be posted later!

Night blanketed the keep, bringing a creeping cold from the Frostbacks with it. Solas pulled his furs tighter around his shoulders as he slipped out the back door of his tower room. With a full pack of supplies and a few days of nothing but rest, he was ready to leave.

Physically, at least.

Emotionally, he was still torn. Skyhold had been his home for over a year. He had made friends there. He had a relationship with Bryn that made him happier than he had been in centuries.

It had been hard enough to leave the first time. Now he wasn’t just leaving one person he loved, but two.

Neth had a multitude of people looking out for her. She would be raised with and by the best of Thedas. She would want for nothing.

Except perhaps her father.

But he still had his duties. His work was far from over. He had made the mistake of getting too attached once, he couldn’t afford to do it again.

Not even for Neth.

He had given it all hours of thought, he needed to leave. His own selfish desires meant nothing in the long run, he needed to focus on his work.

With a heavy heart, he slunk through the shadows of the courtyard until he found the hidden exit. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him, heading out into the icy mountains once more.

He didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the kind words and support, I really appreciate it!
> 
> EDIT: Due to feedback and my own fickleness, this is one of two endings for the fic! This is the "official" ending, as I feel it is more in character for Solas to leave, however the next chapter/alternate ending will be significantly fluffier for those of you who want happy closure for this feelsy ship!


	21. Staying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas decides to stay.

The grounds of Skyhold bustled with life, as always. Merchants shouting at one another and their customers about sales and new stocks, soldiers practicing and sparring under the hard gaze of their Commander, refugees wandering around socializing. Solas walked through the throngs of people, silently taking in the cacophony of the keep. The brisk air bit at his ears, yet it carried the scent of warm bread and the spice of a fire.

He heard a shriek of glee and turned to see Neth sprinting towards him, her bare feet covered in a thick layer of mud. Suddenly he realized she was not running for him, exactly, but away from a young boy chasing her with a skin full of water in his hand.

Neth saw Solas and skidded to a halt at his feet, tossing a breathless grin over her shoulder at the boy. She looked up at him with her big eyes and tugged on his sleeve. She was using him as a way to spoil the boy’s game.

He couldn’t help but grin as he scooped her up in his arms, raising a brow at the pouting child in front of them.

“No fair, Neth.”

Eloquent as ever, Neth’s only response was to stick her tongue out and blow a wet raspberry at him. Turning Solas, she simply demanded, “Mamae is in the garden with Uncle Varric. I wanna see her.”

“Can’t you see her on your own?”

A light flush bloomed on her cheeks. “Well….yeah…but then Ambrose’ll get me.” She looked back at the boy and made a face at him.

Ambrose simply made a face back at her, raising his armed hand once more.

Solas chuckled and shook his head. “I see. We cannot let that happen, can we?”

She proudly shook her head, lifting her chin in a very Vivienne-inspired way.

He had little choice but to carry her to the gardens.

Ambrose made a disgruntled sound before tossing the skin at them, missing by a few feet. The skin burst near one of the horses, startling it. Dennet would have to spend some time calming the beast, and Ambrose obviously knew he was in trouble. Within a blink of an eye the boy was gone, having sprinted off through the crowds.

Neth giggled at him and shifted in Solas’ arms as they walked across the grounds, settling into a position that was comfortable for her, though a little awkward for him. He put up with it though, willing to deal with a few minutes of discomfort to keep Neth happy.

Eventually they made it to the gardens. Solas breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Bryn and Varric sitting in the gazebo together, knowing it meant he could put Neth down soon and ease the crick forming in his shoulder.

Sure enough, Neth began to wriggle to be put down. He was more than happy to oblige. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she ran off to her mother.

Solas followed at a much slower pace, watching as Neth leapt up into Bryn’s lap, completely oblivious to the mud caking her feet and the hem of her skirt.

Varric laughed, leaning back. “Look at you, Peanut. Been running around in the mud again?”

Neth looked down at her feet and wiggled her toes. “Maybe.”

Bryn grinned and kissed Neth’s cheek. “You should get cleaned up, remember Aunt Victoria is coming to visit.”

The whine that emanated from Neth was astounding. “I don’t wanna. If I clean up I have to wear shoes. I hate shoes.”

Varric barked with laughter. “Spoken like a true elf.” With a questioning look at Solas, he stood and took Neth into his arms. “Come on, let’s go find Josephine and Leliana and maybe they can convince you to take a bath.”

As they walked away, Solas heard Neth’s sheepish mumble, “They use fancy soaps and make me pretty. I like that.”

Bryn shifted in her seat, shaking her head with a smile as she brushed the drying bits of mud off of her clothes. “Varric always knows just what to say. I swear he’s a better parent than I am.”

“No. She did not insist I take her to Varric. She has always wanted to go back to you.”

Bryn looked genuinely surprised. He wondered why. From what he had seen in the Fade, she had been an excellent mother to Neth. While Varric spoiled her and used his usual wit and charm to get her to behave, he was still just her doting Uncle. Bryn was the one that chased the monsters out from under her bed, or sang the nightmares away. Varric gave Neth the things she wanted and managed to get her to behave, but Bryn was the one who was raising her and truly caring for her.

“That’s…thank you.” She stood and stepped over to him, pulling at her fingers. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing a good job. I’m trying, but it’s hard to juggle a child as curious and rambunctious as she is and the Inquisition at the same time.”

He studied her profile, still mulling over his decision. “You are doing a wonderful job, Inquisitor. You are exactly what she needs.”

With a snort, Bryn grinned at him. “You know, Dorian and Varric tell me that all the time, but…it means a lot more from you. Not necessarily because you’re her father, just…that you’re a lot more intuitive than they are.”

He raised a brow. “I am more intuitive about magic and spirits, perhaps, but both Varric and Dorian understand people far better than I do. I don’t see why you wouldn’t take their word for it over mine.”

She let out a little laugh and rubbed her cheek. “I suppose you’re right. As always.”

“There have been many times where I have been wrong, Inquisitor.”

She gave him a teasing look. “I don’t remember any.”

Shrugging, he took a step closer to look out on the gardens. How they managed to get such rich vegetation in this little pocket in the Frostbacks still astounded him. He let himself relax and enjoy the view, along with the feeling of Bryn at his side.

“So have you decided?”

The question caught him off guard, and he turned to look at her. “Decided what?”

She gave him a look as if it were obvious. “Whether you’re staying or not.”

“Ah,” he turned back to the gardens. “Yes, I have decided to stay.” He glanced at her to gauge her reaction. “If you don’t mind.”

Her eyes locked with his. “Of course I don’t mind.” She broke their gaze and looked at her hands. “Neth will be happy to know you’re staying. She really does like you.”

“So you have said before. However,” carefully, he turned to face he once more, closing some of the distance between them without getting too intimate, “I am more concerned with what you think on the matter.”

Gears worked in her head, he could see her weighing her words carefully. “Of course I’m happy to have you back, it will be good for the Inquisition and Neth to…” She trailed off, obviously realizing he could see through her. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at her hands. When she did finally speak, her voice was nothing more than a whisper, dripping with honesty. “I missed you.” She looked up at him sheepishly.

He couldn’t help but smile at her confession. Nodding faintly, he took her hand, barely brushing his fingers over her palm. “I missed you too, vhenan.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her free hand flew to her face to cover an embarrassed flush. “Vhenan,” she tested the old word on her tongue, letting her grin get wider.

Locking eyes with her, he searched for an answer to the question he had been asking himself since he left – no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

_Could you take me back?_

In the jade hold of her gaze, he found his answer.

 _Yes_.

Slowly, questioningly, he reached up to cup her jaw with his free hand, the other still barely holding hers. His thumb ghosted over her cheek, and he could feel her melt in his hands.

He pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as he let himself get lost in the soft scent of lavender rising from her skin, the warmth of her so close by. He could feel her breath quicken, coming in little warm bursts on his cheek and chin. Their lips met before he could stop himself, and in that moment he decided he would not hold back anymore.

He could keep his secrets, he had to. He would keep up his work, he had to.

But he could also stay with her, and with Neth.

“I love you,” he breathed against her lips.

She pressed closer to him, kissing back as if he had never left, calm yet passionate. It was a feeling he hadn’t forgotten over the years, a feeling he found himself slipping back into with the ease of falling asleep.

Deep in his mind he wondered if he was making a mistake, but the peace warming his very soul kept him there in her arms.

Until a small body collided with his knee, sending him stumbling backwards with a grunt.

Bryn flailed to catch him, surprised laughter bubbling up from her chest. A higher-pitched giggle joined hers, and Solas looked down to see Neth hugging their legs, grinning up at him with her gap-toothed smile.

“Josephine and Leliana were busy, so she decided that meant she didn’t have to take a bath.” Varric sauntered up to them, giving them a knowing look.

Bryn hoisted Neth up into her arms, hiding her reddened face in her daughter’s hair. “And of course you made absolutely no attempt to stop her.”

“Nah, of course not. She’s the Inquisitor’s daughter. Much higher on the food chain than a surface dwarf from Kirkwall.” He shrugged, folding his arms across his chest.

Solas was barely listening to them. He was watching Bryn and Neth, the two most important people in his life.

And he was realizing he could stay with them.

After years of pain and cynicism, he finally felt fully at peace.

He had made the right decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the alternate ending for this fic, I hope it's fluffy enough!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and giving me such great feedback, I really do appreciate it.

**Author's Note:**

> Tried my hand at a longer work, using an idea I've been sitting on since I first saw that scene after the credits. Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for reading!
> 
> EDIT: The fic has been edited to become a choose-your-own-adventure sort of thing: there's an unhappy ending as well as a happy fluffy alternate ending.
> 
> Check out a picture I drew of Bryn here:  
> http://tinyurl.com/qfm2k84


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